i| 


ib. 


HENRY  VIII   AND  ANNE   BOLEYN 


Copyright,    1 90 1 

By 

THE    UNIVERSITY    SOCIETY 


COLLEGE 
LIBRARY 


Famous  History  of  the  i  ^  f^   i 

Life  of  King  Henry  VIII. 

Preface. 

The  First  Edition.  '  The  Famous  History  of  the  Life 
of  King  Henry  the  Eighth '  was  printed  for  the  first  time 
in  the  First  Foho.  There  was  no  Quarto  edition  of  the 
play. 

The  text  of  the  play  is  singularly  free  from  corrup- 
tions ;  the  Acts  and  Scenes  are  indicated  throughout ;  * 
the  stage  directions  are  full  and  explicit.!  Rowe  first 
supplied,  imperfectly,  the  Dramatis  Personae. 

Date  of  Composition.  Henry  the  Eighth  was  un- 
doubtedly acted  as  'a  nezc  play'  on  June  29th,  1613,  and 
resulted  in  the  destruction  by  fire  of  the  Globe  Theatre 
on  that  day.  The  evidence  on  this  point  seems  absolutely 
conclusive : — 

(i.)  Thomas  Lorkin,  in  a  letter  dated  "this  last  of 
June,"  161 3,  referring  to  the  catastrophe  of  the  previous 
day,  says :  "  No  longer  since  than  yesterday,  while  Bour- 

*  Except  in  the  case  of  Act  V.  Sc.  iii..  where  no  change  of 
scene  is  marked  in  the  folio.  "Exeunt"  is  not  added  at  the  end 
of  the  previous  scene,  but  it  is  quite  clear  that  the  audience  was 
to  imagine  a  change  of  scene  from  the  outside  to  the  inside  of 
the  Council-chamber.  The  stage-direction  runs  : — '  A  Councell 
Table  brought  in  with  Chayres  and  Stooles,  and  placed  under 
the  state,'  etc. 

t  The  lengthy  stage-direction  at  the  beginning  of  Act.  V.  Sc.  v. 
was  taken  straight  from  Holinshed ;  similarly,  the  order  of  the 
Coronation  in  Act.  IV.  Sc.  i. 


Preface  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

bage  his  companle  were  acting  at  the  Globe  the  play  of 
Henry  VIII.,  and  their  shooting  of  certayne  chambers  in 
the  way  of  triumph,  the  fire  catch'd,"  etc. 

(ii.)  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  writing  to  his  nephew  on  July 
2nd,  1613,  tells  how  the  Globe  was  burnt  down  during 
the  performance  "of  a  new  play,  called  All  is   True* 

*  Cp.  Prologue  to  Henry  VIIL,  11.  9,  18,  21  :— 
'May  here  Und  truth.' 

'  To  rank  our  chosen  truth  with  such  a  show' 

'  To  make  that  only  true  zve  now  intend.' 

The  second  name  of  the  play  may  very  well  have  been  a  coun- 
terblast to  the  title  of  Rowley's  Chronicle  History  of  Henry  8th, 
"When  you  see  me,  you  knozv  me"  and  perhaps  also  of  Hey- 
wood's  plays  on  Queen  Elizabeth,  "If  you  knozv  not  me,  you 
know  no  body."  It  is  possible  that  both  Prologue  and  Epilogue 
of  Henry  VHI.  refer  to  Rowley's  play,  '  the  merry  bawdy  play,' 
with  its  *  fool  and  fight,'  and  its  *  abuse  of  the  city.' 

'  When  you  see  Me,'  was  certainly  '  the  Enterlude  of  K.  Henry 
VHL'  entered  in  the  Stationers'  Books  under  the  date  of  Febru- 
ary 12,  1604  (-5),  which  has  sometimes  been  identified  with 
Shakespeare's  play. 

It  is  noteworthy  that  the  play,  first  published  in  1605.  was  re- 
issued in  1613.  The  same  is  true  of  the  First  Part  of  Heywood's 
play.  This  play  of  Heywood's  called  forth  the  well-known  pro- 
logue, wherein  the  author  protested 

"  That  some  by  stenography  drew 

The  plot:  put  it  in  print:  scarce  one  word  trew." 

Similarly,  the  Chronicle  History  of  Thomas  Lord  Cromzvell, 
originally  printed  in  1602,  was  re-issued  in  1613  with  the  menda- 
cious or  equivocal  statement  on  the  title-page,  "  written  by  W.  S" 

We  know  from  Henslowe's  Diary  that  there  were  at  least  two 
plays  on  Wolsey  which  held  the  stage  in  1601,  1602,  "  The  Rising 
of  Cardinal  Wolsey/'  by  Munday,  Drayton  &  Chettle,  and  '  Car- 
dinal Wolsey,'  by  Chettle. 

An  edition  of  Rowley's  play,  by  Karl  Elze,  with  Introduction 
and  Notes,  was  published  in  1874  (Williams  &  Norgate). 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Preface 

representing  some  principal  pieces  of  the  reign  of  Henry 
the  8th.  .  .  .  Now,  King  Henry  making  a  Masque 
at  the  Cardinal  Wolsey's  House,  and  certain  cannons  be- 
ing shot  off  at  his  entry,*  some  of  the  paper,  and  other 
stuff,  wherewith  one  of  them  was  stopped,  did  light  on 
the  thatch,"  etc. 

(iii.)  John  Chamberlain,  in  a  letter  to  Sir  Ralph  Win- 
wood  {vide  Winwood's  Memorials),  dated  July  12th, 
161 3,  alludes  to  the  burning  of  the  theatre,  '  which  fell 
cut  by  a  peale  of  chambers  (that  I  know  not  upon  what 
occasion  were  to  be  used  in  the  play).' 

(iv.)  Howes,  in  his  continuation  of  Stowe's  Chronicle 
(1615)  says  that  the  fire  took  place  when  the  house  was 
'  filled  with  people,  to  behold  the  plav,  viz.,  of  Henrv 
the  8.' 

(v.)  Ben  Jonson,  in  his  Execration  vpon  Vulcan,  refers 
to  '  that  cruel  stratagem  against  the  Globe.' 

'  The  fort  of  the  zvhole  parish, 
I  sazu  with  tzvo  poor  chambers  taken  in, 
And  razed;  ere  thought  could  urge  this  might  have  heen!'-\ 

Internal   evidence   seems   to   corroborate   this   external 

*  I'^ide  Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  44-51,  with  stage  direction: — 'Chambers 
discharged.' 

t  There  were  also  several  '  lamentable  ballads  '  on  the  event ; 
one  of  them,  if  genuine,  is  of  special  interest,  as  it  has  for  the 
burden  at  the  end  of  each  stanza : — 

"  O  sorrow,  pitiful  sorrozv! 
And  yet  it  all  is  true !  " 
The  fifth  stanza  is  significant : — 

"Away  ran  Lady  Catherine, 
Nor  waited  out  her  trial." 
(Vide  Collier,  Annals  of  the  Stage.)     The  authenticity  of  the  bal- 
lad is  most  doubtful. 

Halliwell  doubted  the  identity  of  All  is  True  and  Shakespeare's 
play,  because  he  found  a  reference  in  a  ballad  to  the  fact  that 
'  the  reprobates  .  .  .  prayed  for  the  Foole  and  Henrye  Con- 
dye,'  and  there  is  no  fool  in  the  play,  but  the  ballad  does  not 
imply  that  there  was  a  fool's  part. 


Preface  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

evidence,  and  to  point  to  circa  1612  as  the  date  of  Henry 
J'lIL  The  panegyric  on  James  I.,  with  its  probable  ref- 
erence (V.  V.  51-3)  to  the  first  settlement  of  Virginia  in 
1607,  and  to  subsequent  settlements  contemplated  in 
1612  *  (or  to  the  marriage  of  the  Princess  Elizabeth  to 
the  Elector  Palatine,  which  took  place  on  14th  February, 
1613),  fixes  the  late  date  for  the  play  in  its«present  form. 

Some  scholars  have,  however,  held  that  it  was  originally 
composed  either  (i.)  towards  the  end  of  Queen  EHza- 
beth's  reign,  or  (ii.)  at  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  her 
successor.  Elze  attempted,  without  success,  to  maintain 
the  former  supposition  by  eliminating  (as  later  additions) 
not  only  the  references  to  King  James,  but  also  the  scene 
between  Katharine  and  the  Cardinals,  and  most  of  Kath- 
arine's death-scene,  so  as  to  make  the  play  a  sort  of 
apology  for  Henry,  a  glorification  of  Anne  Boleyn,  and  an 
apotheosis  of  Elizabeth,  f  Hunter  held  the  latter  view, 
discovering  infer  alia  that  the  last  scene  was  '  to  exhibit 
the  respect  which  rested  on  the  memory  of  Elizabeth,  and 
the  hopeful  anticipations  which  were  entertained  on  the 
accession  of  King  James.'  ;j; 

At  all  events,  no  critic  has  attempted  to  regard  the  great 
trial-scene  as  a  later  interpolation,  and  this  scene  may 
therefore  be  taken  to  be  an  integral  part  of  Shakespeare's 
work;  it  is  a  companion  picture  to  the  trial  in  TJie  Win- 
ter's Tale ;  Hermione  and  Katharine  are  twin-sisters, 
"  queens   of  earthly  queens  "  §  ;  and  indeed  the  general 

*  A  state  lottery  was  set  up  expressly  for  the  establishment  of 
English  Colonies  in  Virginia  in  1612. 

t  Vide  Essays  on  Shakespeare  by  Professor  Karl  Elze  (trans- 
lated by  L.  Dora  Schmitz)  ;  cp.  German  Shakespeare  Jahrhuch, 
1874.  Collier  held  a  similar  theory,  which  numbers  many  advo- 
cates among  the  old  Shakespearians — e.g.  Theobald,  Johnson, 
Steevens,  Malone.  etc. 

X  Nezu  Illustrations  to  Shakespeare,  II.  lOi. 

§  v.  Mrs.  Jameson's  comparative  study  of  the  two  characters,  and 
her  enthusiastic  appreciation  of  Katharine  as  "the  triumph  of 
Shakespeare's  genius  and  his  wisdom." 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Preface 

characteristics,  metrical  and  otherwise,  of  this  and  other 
typically  Shakespearian  scenes,  give  a  well-grounded  im- 
pression that  the  two  plays  belong  to  the  same  late  period, 
and  that  we  probably  have  in  Henry  VIII.  '  the  last  heir ' 
of  the  poet's  invention.  "  The  opening  of  the  play,"  wrote 
James  Spedding,  recording  the  effect  produced  by  a  care- 
ful reading  of  the  whole,  "  seemed  to  have  the  full  stamp 
of  Shakespeare,  in  his  latest  mxanner:  the  same  close- 
packed  expression  ;  the  same  life,  and  reality,  and  fresh- 
ness ;  the  same  rapid  and  abrupt  turnings  of  thought,  so 
quick  that  language  can  hardly  follow  ^ast  enough;  the 
same  impatient  activity  of  intellect  and  fancy,  which 
having  once  disclosed  an  idea  cannot  wait  to  work  it 
orderly  out;  the  same  daring  confidence  in  the  resources 
of  language,  which  plunges  headlong  into  a  sentence 
without  knowing  how  it  is  to  come  forth  ;  the  same  care- 
less metre  which  disdains  to  produce  its  harmonious  ef- 
fects by  the  ordinary  devices,  yet  is  evidently  subject  to 
a  master  of  harmony  ;  the  same  entire  freedom  from  book- 
language  and  commonplace ;  all  the  qualities,  in  short, 
which  distinguish  the  magical  hand  which  has  never  yet 
been  successfully  imitated."  "^  But  the  magical  touch  is 
not  found  throughout  the  play. 

Authorship  of  the  Play.  As  early  as  1758,  in  Ed- 
ward's Canons  of  Criticism  (sixth  edition),  Roderick 
called  attention  to  the  following  peculiarities  in  the  versi- 
fication of  Henry  VIII.: — (i.)  the  frequent  occurrence  of 
a  redundant  syllable  at  the  end  of  the  line;  (ii.)  the  re- 
markable character  of  the  cassurse,  or  pauses  of  the  verse ; 
(iii.)  the  clashing  of  the  emphasis  with  the  cadence  of  the 
metre.  The  subject  received  no  serious  attention  for  well- 
nigh  a  century,  until  in  1850  Mr.  Spedding  published  his 
striking  study  of  the  play,  wherein  he  elaborated  a  sug- 
gestion casually  thrown  out  '  by  a  man  of  first-rate  judge- 
ment on  such  a  point'   (viz.,  the  late  Lord  Tennyson), 

*"Who  wrote  Shakespeare's  Henry  VIII?"  {Gentleman's 
Magazine,  1850)' ;  "  New  Shakespeare  Society's  Papers,"  1874. 


Preface  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

that  many  passages  in  Henry  VIII.  were  very  much  in 
the  manner  of  Fletcher.  Basing  his  conclusions  on  con- 
siderations of  dramatic  construction,  diction,  metre,  and 
subtler  aesthetic  criteria,  he  assigned  to  Shakespeare  Act 
I.  Sc.  i.,  ii. ;  Act  II.  Sc.  iii.,  iv. ;  Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  (to  exit  of 
the  King)  ;  Act  V.  Sc.  i.,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  play  to 
Fletcher  (though,  possibly,  even  a  third  hand  can  be  de- 
tected).* 

Shakespeare's  original  design  was  probably  '  a  great 
historical  drama  on  the  subject  of  Henry  VIII.,  which 
would  have  includecf  the  divorce  of  Katharine,  the  fall  of 
Wolsey,  the  rise  of  Cranmer,  the  coronation  of  Anne 
Bullen,  and  the  final  separation  of  the  English  from  the 
Romish  Church.'  He  had  carried  out  his  idea  as  far  as 
Act  III.,  when  his  fellows  at  the  Globe  required  a  new 
play  for  some  special  occasion  (perhaps  the  marriage  of 
Princess  Elizabeth)  ;  the  MS.  was  handed  over  to 
Fletcher,  who  elaborated  a  five-act  play,  suitable  to  the 
occasion,  '  by  interspersing  scenes  of  show  and  magnifi- 
cence ' ;  a  splendid  '  historical  masque  or  show-play  '  was 
the  result,  f 

Speddino^'s  views  on  Henry  VIII.  are  now  generally 
accepted ;  X  they  were  immediately  confirmed  by  Mr.  S. 

*  A^.  B. — Wolsey's  famous  soliloquy  falls  to  Fletcher's  share. 

As  regards  the  Prologue  and  Epilogue,  they  seem  Fletcherian ; 
the  former  may  well  be  compared  with  the  lines  prefixed  to  The 
Mad  Lover;  they  are.  however,  so  contradictory,  that  one  would 
fain  assign  them  to  different  hands. 

t  The  panegyric  at  the  end  is  quite  in  the  Masque-style ;  so, 
too,  the  Vision  in  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. ;  compare  Pericles,  V.  ii. ;  Cym- 
beline,  V.  iv..  both  similarly  un-Shakespearian.  The  Masque  in 
the  Tempest  is  also  of  somewhat  doubtful  authorship.  Mr.  Fleay 
suggested  as  an  explanation  of  the  dual  authorship  that  that  part 
of  Shakespeare's  play  was  burnt  at  the  Globe,  and  that  Fletcher 
was  employed  to  re-write  this  part ;  that  in  doing  so  he  used  such 
material  as  he  recollected  from  his  hearing  of  Shakespeare's 
play.  Hence  the  superiority  of  his  work  here  over  that  elsewhere 
{vide  Shakespeare  Manual,  p.  171). 

X  Singer,  Knight,  Ward,  Ulrici,  do  not  accept  the  theory  of  a 

6 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII. 


Preface 


Hickson,  who  had  been  investigating  the  matter  inde- 
pendently (Notes  and  Queries,  II.  p.  198;  III.  p.  33),  and 
later  on  by  Mr.  Fleay  and  others,  who  subjected  the  va- 
rious portions  of  the  play  to  the  metrical  tests.* 

The  Sources.  There  were  four  main  sources  used 
for  the  historical  facts  of  the  play: — (i.)  Hall's  Union  of 
the  Families  of  Lancaster  and  York  (ist  ed.  1548),  (ii.) 
Holinshed's  Chronicles  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ire- 
land (1st  ed.  1577;  2nd  ed.  1586);  (iii.)  The  Life  of 
Cardinal  Wolsey,  by  George  Caverftiish,  his  gentleman- 
usher  (first  printed  in  1641  ;  MSS.  of  the  work  were 
common)  ;  (iv. )  Foxe's  Acts  and  Monuments  of  the 
Church  (ist  ed.  1563).  The  last-named  book  afforded 
the  materials  for  the  Fifth  Act. 

Chronology  of  the  Play.  Though  the  play  keeps  in 
many  places  the  very  diction  of  the  authorities,  yet  its 
chronology  is  altogether  capricious,  as  will  be  seen  from 

divided  authorship.  In  the  Transactions  of  the  New  Shak.  Sac. 
for  1880-5,  there  is  a  paper  by  Mr.  Robert  Boyle,  putting  forth  the 
theory  that  the  play  was  written  by  Fletcher  and  Massinger,  and 
that  the  original  Shakespearian  play  perished  altogether  in  the 
Globe  fire. 

*  These  tests  seem  decisive  against  Shakespeare's  sole  author- 
ship. Dr.  Abbott  {Shakespearian  Grammar,  p.  331)  states  emphati- 
crJIy  : — "  The  fact  that  in  Henry  VIII.,  and  in  no  other  play  of 
Shakespeare's,  constant  exceptions  are  formed  to  this  rule  fthat  an 
extra  syllable  at  the  end  of  a  line  is  rarely  a  monosyllable)  seems 
to  me  a  sufficient  proof  that  Shakespeare  did  not  write  that  play." 

The  following  table  will  show  at  a  glance  the  metrical  char- 
acteristics of  the  parts  : — 


Shakespeare. 

Fletcher. 

double  endings 
unstopped  lines 
light  endings 
weak  endings 
rhymes 

I  to  3 

I  to  2.03 

45 

37 

6  {accidefital) 

I  to  1.7  1 
I  to  3  79 i 

,■  1 

proportion, 
number. 

Preface  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

the  following  table  of  historic  dates,  arranged  in  the  order 
of  the  play  : — '^ 

1520.  June.     Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold. 
1522.     March.    War  declared  with  France. 

May-July.    Visit  of  the  Emperor  to  the  English 
Court. 

1 521.  April  1 6th.    Buckingham  brought  to  the  Tower. 
1527.     Henry  becomes  acquainted  with  Anne  Bullen. 

1 521.     May.     Arraignment  of  Buckingham. 
May  17th.,  His  Execution. 

1527.  August.    Commencement  of  proceedings  for  the 

divorce. 

1528.  October.    Cardinal  Campeius  arrives  in  London. 

1532.  September.     Anne  Byllen  created  Marchioness 

of  Pembroke. 

1529.  May.     Assembly  of  the   Court  at   Blackfriars 

to  try  the  case  of  the  divorce. 

jc^    [  Cranmer  abroad  working  for  the  divorce. 

1529.     Return  of  Cardinal  Campeius  to  Rome. 

1533.  January.   Marriage  of  Henry  with  Anne  Bullen. 

1529.  October.     Wolsey  deprived  of  the  great  seal. 

Sir  Thomas  More  chosen  Lord  Chan- 
cellor. 
1533.     March  30th.     Cranmer  consecrated  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury. 
May  23rd.     Nullity  of  the  marriage  w4th  Kath- 
arine declared. 

1530.  November  29th.     Death  of  Cardinal  Wolsey. 
1533.     June  1st.     Coronation  of  Anne. 

1536.  January  8th.     Death  of  Queen  Katharine. 

1533.  September  7th.     Birth  of  Elizabeth. 

1544.  Cranmer  called  before  the  Council. 

1533.  September.    Christening  of  Elizabeth. 

*  Vide  P.  A.  Daniel's  Time  Analysis,  Trans,  of  Nczv  Shak. 
Soc,  1877-79;  <^P-  Courtenay's  Conifnentaries  on  the  Historical 
Plays ;  Warner's  English  History  in  Shakespeare. 

8 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Preface 

Duration  of  Action.  From  the  above  it  is  clear  that 
the  historical  events  of  the  play  cover  a  period  of  twenty- 
four  years ;  the  time  of  the  play,  however,  is  seven  days, 
represented  on  the  stage,  with  intervals: — Day  i,  Act  I. 
Sc.  i.-iv.  Interval.  Day  2,  Act  II.  Sc.  i.-iii.  Day  3,  Act 
IL  Se.  iv.  Day  4,  Act  III.  Sc.  i.  Interval  Day  5,  Act 
III.  Sc.  ii.  Interval.  Day  6,  Act  IV.  Sc.  i.,  ii.  Interval 
Day  7,  Act  V.  Sc.  i.-iv. 


FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 


Critical  Comments. 
I. 

Argument. 

I,  Soon  after  the  return  of  the  EngHsh  court  from 
the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold  the  Duke  of  Buckingham 
has  the  misfortune  to  embroil  himself  with  Cardinal 
Wolsey,  chancellor  to  Henry  VIII.  The  cardinal  sub- 
orns some  discontented  servants  of  the  duke  to  accuse 
their  master  of  treasonable  purposes;  Wolsey's  desire  to 
work  Buckingham's  downfall  probably  being  strength- 
ened to  jealousy  of  his  power. 

Wolsey  gives  a  great  supper  to  the  court,  which  is  at- 
tended by  the  King  and  his  lords  masked.  Henry  is 
greatly  attracted  by  the  beauty  of  Anne  BuUen,  a  maid 
of  honour. 

II,  Buckingham  is  brought  to  trial,  convicted  of  high 
treason  and  led  to  execution. 

The  charms  of  Anne  Bullen  awaken  in  the  King  a  long 
dormant  scruple  of  conscience  regarding  the  legality  of 
his  marriage  with  Katharine,  the  widow  of  his  deceased 
brother.  He  resolves  to  divorce  the  Queen  and  calls 
her  to  public  trial.  She  attends,  but  refuses  to  submit  to 
the  court.  She  will  not  accept  Wolsey  for  judge,  and 
appeals  to  the  pope. 

III,  The  cardinal,  now  seeing  the  drift  of  Henry's 
purpose,  and  dismayed  at  the  prospect  of  his  union  with 
a  Protestant,  takes  the  side  of  Queen  Katharine  and 
sends  private  instructions  to  the  papal  court  that  her 
divorce  m.ay  be  delayed.  But  the  Queen  still  mistrusts 
him  for  her  enemy.     The  King  meanwhile  becoming  im- 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Comments 

patient  at  Rome's  delay,  takes  matters  into  his  own 
hands,  puts  away  Queen  Katharine,  and  secretly 
espouses  Anne  Bullen.  At  this  juncture  he  by  chance 
gains  possession  of  the  cardinal's  papers — the  letter  to 
the  pope,  and  inventory  of  the  chancellor's  enormous 
wealth.  The  enraged  monarch  deprives  Wolsey  of  his 
civil  offices,  and  the  fallen  favourite  is  saved  from  a 
charge  of  high  treason  only  by  the  interposition  of  death. 

IV.  The  divorced  Queen  Katharine  shortly  follows 
Wolsey  to  the  grave.  Anne  Bullen  is  publicly  crowned 
as  Queen  amid  much  ceremony,  being  anointed  by  Cran- 
mer,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

V.  After  Wolsey 's  death  Cranmer  enjoys  a  great 
share  of  the  King's  favour.  This  arouses  the  jealousy 
of  powerful  nobles,  who  form  a  conspiracy  against  the 
prelate.  He  is  brought  to  trial  and  threatened  with  im- 
prisonment in  the  Tower,  when  the  opportune  arrival  of 
Henry  himself  enables  him  to  triumph  over  his  rivals. 
Cranmer  evinces  his  gratitude  for  the  royal  friendship  by 
taking  part  in  the  christening  of  Queen  Anne's  infant 
daughter,  Elizabeth,  for  whom  he  prophesies  a  career  of 
great  splendour. 

McSpadden  :  Shakespearian  Synopses. 

II. 

Henry  and  Anne. 

Shakspeare  has,  it  is  true,  not.  spared  Henry's  charac- 
ter: he  appears  everywhere  as  the  obstinate,  capricious, 
selfish  and  heartless  man  that  he  was — a  slave  to  his  fa- 
vourites and  to  his  passions.  That  Shakspeare  has  not 
expressly  described  him  as  such,  that  he  has  rather  char- 
acterised him  tacitly  through  his  own  actions,  and  no 
doubt  sedulously  pushed  his  good  points  into  the  fore- 
ground, could  not — without  injustice — have  been  ex- 
pected otherwise  from  a  national  poet  who  wrote  in  the 
reign   of   Henry's   daughter,   the   universally   honoured 

II 


Comments  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Elizabeth.  Further,  that  he  does  not  describe  Anne 
Boleyn  exactly  as  she  was — she  who,  indeed,  at  first  re- 
jected Henry's  advances,  but  afterwards  lived  with  him 
in  adultery  for  three  years — is  also  excusable,  seeing 
that  she  was  Elizabeth's  mother,  and  her  doings  had  not 
in  Shakspeare's  time  been  fully  disclosed,  at  all  events 
they  were  not  publicly  narrated  in  the  chronicles  and 
popular  histories. 

Some  inaccuracies  may  be  left  out  of  consideration ; 
for  instance,  that  the  opinions  expressed  by  the  most  em- 
inent theologians  in  regard  to  Henry's  divorce  were  not 
in  his  favour,  and  that  Thomas  Cranmer  was  not  quite 
the  noble,  amiable  Christian  character  he  is  here  repre- 
sented. These  are  secondary  circumstances  which  the 
poet  was  free  to  dispose  of  as  he  pleased.  But  one 
point,,  where  he  certainly  is  open  to  censure,  is,  that 
he  has  not  given  us  a  full  and  complete  account  of  the 
lives  of  Henry  and  Anne,  but  simply  a  portion  of  their 
history ;  the  representation  therefore  becomes  untrue 
from  an  ideal  point  of  view  as  well.  Not  only  does  this 
offend  the  justice  which  proceeds  from  human  thought, 
but  it  likewise  ofifends  poetical  justice.  Moreover,  it  is 
opposed  to  the  true  and  actual  justice  of  history  when  a 
man  like  Henry — the  slave  to  his  selfish  caprice,  lusts 
and  passions,  the  play-ball  in  the  hands  of  such  a  favour- 
ite as  the  ambitious,  revengeful,  intriguing  Wolsey — a 
man  who  condemns  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  to  death 
without  cause  or  justice,  and  who  for  his  own  low,  sen- 
sual desires  repudiates  his  amiable,  pious,  and  most 
noble  consort,  whose  only  fault  is  a  pardonable  pride 
in  her  true  majesty — when,  I  repeat,  such  a  man  is  re- 
warded for  his  heavy  transgressions  with  the  hand  of  the 
woman  he  loves  and  by  the  birth  of  a  fortunate  child; 
and  again,  when  we  see  Anne  Boleyn — who  even  in  the 
drama  seems  burdened  w^ith  a  grievous  sin,  inasmuch  as 
she  forces  herself  into  the  place  belonging  to  the  unjustly 
banished  Queen — leave  the  stage  simply  as  the  happy, 
extolled  mother  of  such  a  child,  and  in  the  full  enjoy- 

12 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Comments 

ment  of  her  unlawful  possession.  This  is  not  the  course 
taken  by  history.  We  know,  and  it  was  always  well 
known,  that  Henry  died  while  still  in  the  prime  of  life 
and  after  much  suffering,  in  consequence  of  his  excessive 
dissipations — a  wreck  in  body  as  well  as  in  mind;  we 
know,  and  it  can  never  have  been  a  secret,  that  Anne, 
after  a  short  period  of  happiness,  and  not  altogether  un- 
justly, ended  her  frivolous  life  in  prison,  into  which  she 
was  thrown  at  her  own  husband's  command. 

Ulrici:  Shakspearc's  Dramatic  Art. 

III. 

The  Delineation  of  Anne. 

In  the  brief  but  searching  delineation  of  Anne  Boleyn 
there  is  drawn  together  the  essence  of  a  long  history. 
With  little  or  nothing  in  her  of  a  substantive  or  positive 
nature  one  way  or  the  other;  with  scarce  any  legitimate 
object-matter  of  respect  or  confidence,  she  is  notwith- 
standing rather  an  amiable  person;  possessed  with  a 
girlish  fancy  and  hankering  for  the  vain  pomps  and  frip- 
peries of  state,  but  having  no  sense  of  its  duties  and  dig- 
nities. She  has  a  kindly  and  pitiful  heart,  but  is  so  void 
of  womanly  principle  and  delicacy  as  to  be  from  the  first 
evidently  flattered  and  elated  by  those  royal  benevo- 
lences, which  to  any  just  sensibility  of  honour  would  min- 
ister nothing  but  humiliation  and  shame.  She  has  a  real 
and  true  pity  for  the  good  Queen  ;  but  her  pity  goes  alto- 
gether on  false  grounds;  and  she  shows  by  the  very 
terms  of  it  her  eager  and  uneasy  longing  after  what  she 
scarcely  more  fears  than  hopes  the  Queen  is  about  to 
lose.  She  strikes  infinitely  below  the  true  grounds  and 
sources  of  Katharine's  noble  sorrow,  and  that  in  such  a 
way  as  to  indicate  her  utter  inability  to  reach  or  conceive 
them;  and  thus  serves  to  set  off  and  enhance  the  deep 
and  solid  character  of  her  whose  soul  truth  is  not  so 
much  a  quality,  as  it  is  the  very  substance  and  essential 

13 


Comments  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

form;  and  who,  from  the  serene  and  steady  Ught  thence 
shining  within  her,  much  rather  than  from  any  acuteness 
of  strength  of  intellect,  is  enabled  to  detect  the  crooked 
policy  and  duplicity  which  are  playing  their  engines 
about  her.  For,  as  Mrs.  Jameson  justly  observes,  this 
thorough  honesty  and  integrity  of  heart,  this  perfect 
truth  in  the  inward  parts,  is  as  hard  to  be  deceived,  as  it 
is  incapable  of  deceiving.  We  can  well  imagine,  that 
with  those  of  the  Poet's  audience  who  had  any  knowl- 
edge of  English  history,  and  many  of  them  no  doubt 
had  much,  the  delineation  of  Anne,  broken  off,  as  it  is, 
at  the  height  of  her  fortune,  must  needs  have  sent  their 
thoughts  forward  to  reflect  how  the  self-same  levity  of 
character,  which  lifted  her  into  Katharine's  place,  soon 
afterwards  drew  on  herself  a  far  more  sudden  and  ter- 
rible reverse  than  had  overtaken  those  on  whose  ruins 
she  had  risen. 

Hudson  :  The  Works  of  Shakespeare, 

IV. 

Katharine. 

Katharine  is  at  first  introduced  as  pleading  before  the 
king  in  behalf  of  the  commonalty,  who  had  been  driven 
by  the  extortions  of  Wolsey  into  some  illegal  excesses. 
In  this  scene,  which  is  true  to  history,  we  have  her  up- 
right reasoning  mind,  her  steadiness  of  purpose,  her 
piety  and  benevolence,  placed  in  a  strong  light.  The 
unshrinking  dignity  with  which  she  opposes  without  de- 
scending to  brave  the  cardinal,  the  stern  rebuke  ad- 
dressed to  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  surveyor,  are 
finely  characteristic ;  and  by  thus  exhibiting  Katharine 
as  invested  with  all  her  conjugal  rights  and  influence, 
and  royal  state,  the  subsequent  situations  are  rendered 
more  impressive.  She  is  placed  in  the  first  instance  on 
such  a  height  in  our  esteem  and  reverence,  that  in  the 
midst  of  her  abandonment  and  degradation,  and  the  pro- 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Comments 

found  pity  she  afterwards   inspires,   the  first   effect   re- 
mains unimpaired,  and  she  never  falls  beneath  it. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  second  act  we  are  prepared 
for  the  proceedings  of  the  divorce,  and  our  respect  for 
Katharine  heightened  by  the  general  sympathy  for  "  the 
good  queen,"  as  she  is  expressively  entitled,  and  by  the 
following  beautiful  eulogium  on  her  character  uttered 
by  the  Duke  of  Norfolk:— 

He  [Wolsey]  counsels  a  divorce;  a  loss  of  her 
That  like  a  jewel  has  hung  twenty  years 
About  his  neck,  yet  never  lost  her  lustre ; 
Of  her  that  loves  him  with  that  excellence 
That  angels  love  good  men  with ;  even  of  her 
That,  when  the  greatest  stroke  of  fortune  falls, 
Will  bless  the  king. 


We  are  told  by  Cavendish,  that  when  Wolsey  and 
Campeggio  visited  the  queen  by  the  king's  order  she  was 
found  at  work  among  her  women,  and  came  forth  to 
meet  the  cardinals  with  a  skein  of  white  thread  hanging 
about  her  neck;  that  when  Wolsey  addressed  her  in 
Latin,  she  interrupted  him,  saying,  "  Nay,  good  my 
lord,  speak  to  me  in  English,  I  beseech  you;  although  I 
understand  Latin."  ''  Forsooth  then,"  quoth  my  lord, 
*'  madam,  if  it  please  your  grace,  we  come  both  to  know 
your  mind,  how  ye  be  disposed  to  do  in  this  matter  be- 
tween the  king  and  you,  and  also  to  declare  secretly  our 
opinions  and  our  counsel  unto  you,  which  we  have  in- 
tended of  very  zeal  and  obedience  that  we  bear  to  your 
grace."  "  My  lords,  I  thank  you  then,"  quoth  she,  "  of 
your  good  wills;  but  to  make  answer  to  your  request  I 
cannot  so  suddenly,  for  I  was  set  among  my  maidens  at 
work,  thinking  full  little  of  any  such  matter;  wherein 
there  needeth  a  longer  deliberation,  and  a  better  head 
than  mine  to  make  answer  to  so  noble  wise  men  as  ye 
be.     I  had  need  of  good  counsel  in  this  case,  which 

IS 


Comments  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

toucheth  me  so  near;  and  for  any  counsel  or  friendship 
that  I  can  find  in  England,  they  are  nothing  to  my  pur- 
pose or  profit.  Think  you,  I  pray  you,  my  lords,  will 
any  Englishmen  counsel,  or  be  friendly  unto  me,  against 
the  king's  pleasure,  they  being  his  subjects?  Nay,  for- 
sooth, my  lords!  and  for  my  counsel,  in  whom  I  do  in- 
tend to  put  my  trust,  they  be  not  here;  they  be  in  Spain, 
in  my  native  country.  Alas!  my  lords,  I  am  a  poor 
woman  lacking  both  wit  and  understanding  sufficiently 
to  answer  such  approved  wise  men  as  ye  be  both,  in  so 
weighty  a  matter.  I  pray  you  to  extend  your  good  and 
indifferent  minds  in  your  authority  unto  me,  for  I  am  a 
simple  woman,  destitute  and  barren  of  friendship  and 
counsel,  here  in  a  foreign  region  ;  and  as  for  your  coun- 
sel, I  will  not  refuse,  but  be  glad  to  hear." 

It  appears,  also,  that  when  the  Archbishop  of  York 
and  Bishop  Tunstall  waited  on  her  at  her  house  near 
Huntingdon,  with  the  sentence  of  the  divorce,  signed  by 
Henry,  and  confirmed  by  an  act  of  Parliament,  she  re- 
fused to  admit  its  validity,  she  being  Henry's  wife,  and 
not  his  subject.  The  bishop  describes  her  conduct  in  his 
letter:  "  She  being  therewith  in  great  choler  and  agony, 
and  always  interrupting  our  words,  declared  that  she 
would  never  leave  the  name  of  queen,  but  would  persist 
in  accounting  herself  the  king's  wife  till  death."  When 
the  official  letter  containing  minutes  of  their  conference 
was  shown  to  her,  she  seized  a  pen  and  dashed  it  angrily 
across  every  sentence  in  which  she  was  styled  Princess- 
dowager. 

If  now  we  turn  to  that  inimitable  scene  between  Kath- 
arine and  the  two  cardinals  (III.  i.),  we  shall  observe 
how  finely  Shakespeare  has  condensed  these  incidents, 
and  unfolded  to  us  all  the  workings  of  Katharine's  proud 
yet  feminine  nature.  She  is  discovered  at  work  with 
some  of  her  women — she  calls  for  music  to  soothe  "  her 
soul  grown  sad  with  troubles  " — then  follows  the  little 
song,  of  which  the  sentiment  is  so  well  adapted  to  the 
occasion,  while  its  quaint  yet  classic  elegance  breathes 

i6 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Comments 

the  very  spirit  of  those  times  when  Surrey  loved  and 
sung: — 

Orpheus  with  his  kite  made  trees, 
And  the  mountain  tops  that  freeze, 

Bow  themsehes.  when  he  did  sing: 
To  his  music  plants  and  flowers 
Ever  sprung,  as  sun  and  showers 

There  had  made  a  lasting  spring. 

Every  thing  that  heard  him  play, 
Even  the  billows  of  the  sea, 

Hung  their  heads,  and  then  lay  l)y. 
In  sweet  music  is  such  art. 
Killing  care  and  grief  of  heart 

Fall  asleep,  or,  hearing,  die. 

They  are  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  the  two  cardinals. 
Katharine's  perception  of  their  subtlety — her  suspicion 
of  their  purpose — her  sense  of  her  own  weakness  and 
inability  to  contend  with  them,  and  her  mild  subdued 
dignity,  are  beautifully  represented :  as  also  the  guarded 
self-command  with  which  she  eludes  giving  a  definitive 
answer;  but  when  they  counsel  her  to  that  which  she, 
who  knows  Henry,  feels  must  end  in  her  ruin,  then  the 
native  temper  is  roused  at  once,  or,  to  use  Tunstall's 
expression,  "  the  choler  and  the  agony,"  burst  forth  in 
words : — 

Queen  Katharine.  Is  this  your  Christian  counsel?    Out  upon  ye! 

Heaven  is  above  all  yet ;  there  sits  a  Judge 

That  no  king  can  corrupt. 
Campeiiis.  Your  rage  mistakes  us. 

Queen  Katharine.  The  more  shame  for  ye  !  holy  men  I  thought  ye, 

Upon  my  soul,  two  reverend  cardinal  virtues; 

But  cardinal  sins,  and  hollow  hearts,  I  fear  ye. 

Mend  'em,  for  shame,  my  lords.     Is  this  your  comfort, 

The  cordial  that  ye  bring  a  wretched  lady? 

With  the  same  force  of  language,  and- impetuous  yet 
dignified  feeling,  she  asserts  her  own  conjugal  trttth  and 
merit,  and  insists  upon  her  rights : — 


Comments  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Have  I  liv'd  thus  long  (let  me  speak  myself, 

Since  virtue  finds  no  friends)  a  wife,  a  true  one? 

A  woman  (I  dare  say,  without  vain-glory) 

Never  yet  branded  with  suspicion? 

Have  I  with  all  my  full  affections 

Still  met  the  king?  lov'd  him  next  heaven?  obey'd  him? 

Been,  out  of  fondness,  superstitious  to  him? 

Almost  forgot  my  prayers  to  content  him? 

And  am  I  thus  rewarded?  'tis  not  well,  lords,     ... 

My  lord,  I  dare  not  make  myself  so  guilty, 
To  give  up  willingly  that  noble  title 
Your  master  wed  me  to :  nothing  but  death 
Shall  e'er  divorce  my  dignities. 

And  this  burst  of  unwonted  passion  is  immediately  fol- 
lowed by  the  natural  reaction;  it  subsides  into  tears, 
dejection,  and  a  mournful  self-compassion: — 

Would  I  had  never  trod  this  English  ground, 

Or  felt  the  flatteries  that  grow  upon  it ! 

What  will  become  of  me  now,  wretched  lady? 

I  am  the  most  unhappy  woman  living. 

Alas,  poor  wenches*,  where  are  now  your  fortunes? 

[To  her  women. 
Shipwrecked  upon  a  kingdom,  where  no  pity. 
No  friends,  no  hope ;  no  kindred  weep  for  me ; 
Almost  no  grave  allowed  me;  like  the  lily. 
That  once  was  mistress  of  the  field  and  flourish'd, 
I  '11  hang  my  head  and  perish. 

Dr.  Johnson  observes  on  this  scene,  that  all  Katharine's 
distresses  could  not  save  her  from  a  quibble  on  the 
word  cardinal 

Holy  men  I  thought  ye. 
Upon  my  soul,  two  reverend  cardinal  virtues ; 
But  cardinal  sins,  and  hollow  hearts,  I  fear  yt ! 

When  we  read  this  passage  in  connection  with  the  situa- 
tion and  sentiment,  the  scornful  play  upon  the  words  is 
not  only  appropriate  and  natural,  it  seems  inevitable. 

i8 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Comments 

Katharine,  assuredly,  is  neither  an  imaginative  nor  a 
witty  personage;  but  we  all  acknowledge  the  truism 
that  anger  inspires  wit,  and  whenever  there  is  passion 
there  is  poetry.  In  the  instance  just  alluded  to,  the  sar- 
casm springs  naturally  out  from  the  bitter  indignation  of 
the  moment.  In  her  grand  rebuke  of  Wolsey,  in  the 
trial  scene,  how  just  and  beautiful  is  the  gradual  eleva- 
tion of  her  language,  till  it  rises  into  that  magnificent  im- 
age— 

You  have  by  fortune  and  his  highness'  favours, 
Gone  slightly  o'er  low  steps,  and  now  are  mounted, 
Where  powers  are  your  retainers,     .     .     . 

In  the  depth  of  her  affliction,  the  pathos  as  naturally 
clothes  itself  in  poetry. 

Like  the  lily, 
That  once  was  mistress  of  the  field,  and  flourish'd, 
I  '11  hang  my  head  and  perish. 

But  these,  I  believe,  are  the  only  instances  of  imagery 
throughout ;  for,  in  general,  her  language  is  plain  and 
energetic.  It  has  the  strength  and  simplicity  of  her 
character,  with  very  little  metaphor  and  less  wit. 

In  approaching  the  last  scene  of  Katharine's  life,  T 
feel  as  if  about  to  tread  within  a  sanctuary  where  noth- 
ing befits  us  but  silence  and  tears ;  veneration  so  strives 
with  compassion,  tenderness  with  awe. 

We  must  suppose  a  long  interval  to  have  elapsed  since 
Katharine's  interview  with  the  two  cardinals.  Wolsey 
was  disgraced,  and  poor  Anna  Bullen  at  the  height  of 
her  short-lived  prosperity.  It  was  Wolsey's  fate  to  be 
detested  by  both  queens.  In  the  pursuance  of  his  own 
selfish  and  ambitious  designs,  he  had  treated  both  with 
perfidy;  and  one  was  the  remote,  the  other  the  imme- 
diate cause  of  his  ruin. 

The  ruffian  king,  of  whom  one  hates  to  think,  was 
bent  on  forcing  Katharine  to  concede  her  rights,  and 
illegitimize  her  daughter,  in  favour  of  the  offspring  of 

19 


Comments  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Anna  Bullen:  she  steadily  refused,  was  declared  con- 
tumacious, and  the  sentence  of  divorce  pronounced  in 
1533.  Such  of  her  attendants  as  persisted  in  paying  her 
the  honours  due  to  a  queen  were  driven  from  her  house- 
hold ;  those  who  consented  to  serve  her  as  princess- 
dowager,  she  refused  to  admit  into  her  presence ;  so  that 
she  remained  unattended,  except  by  a  few  women,  and 
her  gentleman  usher,  Griffith.  During  the  last  eighteen 
months  of  her  life  she  resided  at  Kimbolton.  Her 
nephew,  Charles  \  .,  had  offered  here  an  asylum  and 
princely  treatment;  but  Katharine,  broken  in  heart,  and 
declining  in  health,  was  unwilling  to  drag  the  spectacle 
of  her  misery  and  degradation  into  a  strange  country: 
she  pined  in  her  loneliness,  deprived  of  her  daughter, 
receiving  »o  consolation  from  the  pope,  and  no  redress 
from  the  emperor.  Wounded  pride,  wronged  affection, 
and  a  cankering  jealousy  of  the  woman  preferred  to  her 
(which,  though  it  never  broke  out  into  unseemly  words, 
is  enumerated  as  one  of  the  causes  of  her  death),  at 
length  wore  out  a  feeble  frame. 

What  the  historian  relates,  Shakespeare  realizes.  On 
the  wonderful  beauty  of  Katharine's  closing  scene  we 
need  not  dwell,  for  that  requires  no  illustration.  In 
transferring  the  sentiments  of  her  letter  to  her  lips, 
Shakespeare  has  given  them  added  grace,  and  pathos, 
and  tenderness,  without  injuring  their  truth  and  sim- 
plicity :  the  feelings,  and  almost  the  manner  of  expres- 
sion, are  Katharine's  own.  The  severe  justice  with  which 
she  draw's  the  character  of  Wolsey  is  extremely  charac- 
teristic; the  benign  candour  with  which  she  listens  to  the 
praise  of  him  "  whom  living  she  most  hated,"  is  not 
less  so.  How  beautiful  her  religious  enthusiasm ! — the 
slumber  which  visits  her  pillowy  as  she  listens  to  that 
sad  music  she  called  her  knell;  her  awakening  from  the 
vision  of  celestial  joy  to  find  herself  still  on  earth — 

Spirits  of  peace !  where  are  ye?     Are  ye  all  gone, 
And  leave  me  here  in  wretchedness  behind  ye? — 

20 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Comments 

how  unspeakably  beautiful!  And  to  consummate  all  in 
one  final  touch  of  truth  and  nature,  we  see  that  con- 
sciousness of  her  own  worth  and  integrity  which  had 
sustained  her  through  all  her  trials  of  heart,  and  that 
pride  of  station  for  which  she  had  contended  through 
long  years — which  had  become  more  dear  by  opposition, 
r.nd  by  the  perseverance  with  which  she  had  asserted  it — 
remaining  the  last  strong  feeling  upon  her  mind,  to  the 
very  last  hour  of  existence. 

When  I  am  dead,  good  wench, 
Let  me  be  used  with  honour:    strew  me  over 
With  maiden  flowers,  that  all  the  world  may  know 
I  was  a  chaste  wife  to  my  grave ;  embalm  me, 
Then  lay  me  forth :  although  unqueen'd,  yet  like 
A  queen,  and  daughter  to  a  king,  inter  me. 
I  can  no  more. 

In  the  epilogue  to  this  play  it  is  recommended  to 

The  merciful  construction  of  good  women, 
For  such  a  one  we  show'd  'em : 

alluding  to  the  character  of  Queen  Katharine.  Shake- 
speare has,  in  fact,  placed  before  us  a  queen  and  a  hero- 
ine, who  in  the  first  place,  and  above  all,  is  a  good 
woman  ;  and  I  repeat,  that  in  doing  so,  and  in  trustmg 
for  all  his  effect  to  truth  and  virtue,  he  has  given  a 
sublime  proof  of  his  genius  and  his  wisdom ; — for  which, 
among  many  other  obligations,  we  women  remain  his 
debtors. 

Mrs.  Jameson  :  Characteristics  of  Women 

What,  then,  chiefly  interested  the  dramatist  in  this  de- 
signed and  partly  accomplished  Henry  VIIL?  The  pres- 
ence of  a  noble  sufferer— one  who  was  grievously 
wronged,  and  who,  by  a  plain  loyalty  to  what  is  faithful 
and  true,  by  a  disinterestedness  of  soul  and  enduring 
magnanimity,  passes  out  of  all  passion  and  personal  re- 
sentment into  the  reality  of  things,  in  which  much,  in- 


21 


Comments  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

deed,  of  pain  remains,  but  no  ignoble  wrath  or  shallow 
bitterness  of  heart.  Her  earnest  endeavour  for  the  wel- 
fare of  her  English  subjects  is  made  with  fearless  and 
calm  persistence  in  the  face  of  Wolsey's  opposition.  It 
is  integrity  and  freedom  from  self-regard  set  over  against 
guile  and  power  and  pride.  In  her  trial  scene,  the  indig- 
nation of  Katharine  flashes  forth  against  the  cardinal, 
but  is  an  indignation  which  unswervingly  progresses 
towards  and  penetrates  into  the  truth. 

DowDEN :  Shakspere. 


In  spite  of  the  great  virtues  which  I  have  to  acknowl- 
edge in  her,  I  have  an  insurmountable  dislike  to  this 
princess.  As  a  married  woman  she  was  a  pattern  of 
social  fidelity.  As  a  queen  she  was  most  majestic  and 
dignified.  As  a  Christian  she  was  virtue  personified. 
But  she  inspired  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  with  a  voice  to 
sing  her  highest  praise,  and  of  all  the  women  described 
by  Shakespeare  she  is  his  special  favourite.  He  men- 
tions her  with  tender  pathos  .  .  .  and  this  is  in- 
sufferable. Shakespeare  did  his  best  to  idealize  "the 
good  woman  but  this  is  in  vain,  when  we  perceive  that 
.  .  .  Dr.  Johnson  is  overcome  by  tender  delight  at 
her  sight  and  runs  over  in  her  praise.  Were  she  my 
wife  I  could  make  such  praise  a  ground  of  separation. 
Heine:  Notes  on  Shakespeare  Heroines. 

V. 

Wolsey. 

Opposed  to  Buckingham,  but  still  more  accomplished 
with  the  new  arts  in  vogue,  and  with  a  tongue  still  more 
persuasive,  is  the  magnificent  arrogance  of  the  all- 
performing  Wolsey.  He  is  the  type  of  the  advancing 
Commons  as  sprung  from  their  very  depths ;  but  he  has 
taken  such  a  start  ahead  of  them  as  to  be  willing  to  forget 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Comments 

and  to  aid  in  oppressing,  his  own  original  order.  He  has 
the  upstart's  not  unprovoked  hatred  of  the  hereditary 
nobiHty,  and  the  upstart's  neglect  also  of  the  class  he 
has  quitted.  The  tendency  of  the  age  is  to  advance  him, 
and  tempting  circumstances  and  a  nature  that  can  be 
dazzled  and  misled,  carry  him  on  by  ways  too  often  un- 
holy to  a  perilous  height.  Assentation  and  convenience 
to  royalty  brings  on  such  gigantic  success  that  he  makes 
the  usual  mistake  of  his  position  and  dreams  of  inde- 
pendence. The  first  manifest  proof  of  falsehood  for 
his  own  ends  in  a  service  that  every  truth  disowned,  en- 
sures his  ruin,  and  the  double  herds  of  vulgar,  the  select 
and  the  numberless,  blacken  him  in  his  descent,  and  ex- 
ult in  his  overthrow  with  a  temper  that  would  put  the 
best  cause  in  the  wrong. 

Wolsey  is  Shakespeare's  most  elaborate  picture,  and 
he  has  many,  of  the  arrogant,  scheming  and  unchristian 
churchman.  The  strongest  lines  mark  his  duplicity  of  act 
and  word,  his  envy,  malice  and  pitilessness  against  Buck- 
ingham, Katharine,  Pace  or  Bullen — the  dim-burning 
light  that  with  off-hand  severity  he  would  snuff  out ; 
and  yet  so  soon  as  his  own  ruin  explodes  he  turns  upon 
those  who  triumph  in  his  fall,  some  like  Surrey  not 
without  good  excuse,  and  taxes  them  indignantly  with 
envy  and  malice — their  ignorance  of  truth — he  who  so 
often  had  profaned  his  gift  of  ingratiating  language  to 
betray — with  shameful  want  of  manners,  thus  imputing 
the  faults  with  which  he  of  all  others  is  most  charg-eable. 
Yet  strange  to  say  in  all  this  seeming  impudent  self- 
assertion  he  is  already  becoming  more  truthful.  His  de- 
fencelessness  comes  bitterly  home  to  him,  and  he  grasps 
about  wildly  and  eagerly  for  those  weapons  and  the 
armour  that  would  bestead  him  in  such  need;  and  as 
he  vainly  searches  in  his  soul  for  the  resources  he  has 
forfeited  he  becomes  conscious  of  his  past  and  irrepara- 
ble- improvidence.  Relieved  from  the  obstructions  of 
place  and  power,  he  soon  sees  w^th  clear  eye  from  what 
quarter  might  have  come  entire  protection  against,  or 

23 


Comments  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

compensation  for  any  danger,  and  any  insult  and  fall. 
The  very  features  of  the  vices  he  has  been  practising  are 
reflected  before  him  in  the  exultation  of  the  enemies  who 
have  leapt  into  his  position,  and  with  sudden  pang  he 
notes  and  hates  their  despicableness  in  himself.  Such 
is  the  process  of  the  purification  of  his  mind,  and  the 
sign  of  it  is  that  the  taunts  of  the  nobles  have  their  effect 
in  composing  his  mind  rather  than  agitating  or  irritating 
it.  In  a  bright  outburst  of  moral  enlightenment  we  note 
the  refreshment  and  very  rejuvenescence  of  the  soul, 
which  Shakespeare  is  our  warrant  may  truly  come  over 
the  corrupt — the  criminal.  No  repentance  will  ever 
undo  and  reverse  the  full  consequence  of  wrong,  for  the 
better  life  of  the  man  may  sigh  as  vainly  to  recover  the 
misused  capacities  and  opportunities  of  youth  and  boy- 
hood as  their  lost  hours;  yet  is  not  the  great  Order  mer- 
ciless, nor  are  they  dreamers  and  deceivers  of  the  fanat- 
ical who  tell  that  it  remains  for  the  wrong-doer — who 
shall  set  a  limit  and  say  how^  heinously  guilty — to  arrive 
by  whatever  providential  process  at  a  newness  of  heart 
that  places  him  in  completest  opposition  to  his  former 
self. 

Lloyd  :  Critical  Essays  on  the  Plays  of  Shakespeare. 

VI. 

Divided  Against  Itself, 

The  effect  of  the  play  as  a  whole  is  weak  and  disap- 
pointing. The  truth  is  that  the  interest,  instead  of  rising 
towards  the  end,  falls  away  utterly,  and  leaves  us  in  the 
last  act  among  persons  whom  we  scarcely  know,  and 
events  for  which  we  do  not  care.  ...  I  know  no 
other  play  in  Shakespeare  which  is  chargeable  with  a 
fault  like  this,  none  in  which  the  moral  sympathy  of  the 
spectator  is  not  carried  along  with  the  main  current  of' 
action  to  the  end.  In  all  the  historical  tragedies  a  Prov- 
idence may  be  seen  presiding  over  the  development  of 

24 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Comments 

events,  as  just  and  relentless  as  the  fate  in  a  Greek  trag- 
edy. Even  in  Henry  IV.,  where  the  comic  element  pre- 
dominates, we  are  never  allowed  to  exult  in  the  success 
of  the  wrong-doer,  or  to  forget  the  penalties  which  are 
due  to  guilt.  And  if  it  be  true  that  in  the  romantic  com- 
edies our  moral  sense  does  sometimes  suffer  a  passing 
shock,  it  is  never  owing  to  an  error  in  the  general  de- 
sign, but  always  to  some  incongruous  circumstance  in 
the  original  story  which  has  lain  in  the  way  and  not 
been  entirely  got  rid  of,  and  which  after  all  offends  us 
rather  as  an  incident  improbable  in  itself  than  as  one 
for  which  our  sympathy  is  unjustly  demanded.  The  sin- 
gularity of  Henry  VHI.  is  that,  while  four-fifths  of  the 
play  are  occupied  in  matters  which  are  to  make  us  in- 
capable of  mirth — '  Be  sad,  as  zue  zvould  make  yon  ' — the 
remaining  fifth  is  devoted  to  joy  and  triumph,  and  ends 
with  universal  festivity: — 

This  day,  no  man  think 

Has  business  at  his  house ;  for  all  shall  stay : 

This  little  one  shall  make  it  holiday. 

Speddixg:  Gentleman's  Magazine,  August,  1850. 


No  doubt  the  nature  of  the  subject  imposed  enormous 
difficulties  on  an  Elizabethan  dramatist.  To  render  with 
imaginative  sympathy  the  moving  story  of  the  divorce, 
and  yet  to  remember  that  the  glory  of  his  own  time  had 
flowered  from  that  malign  plant,  was  to  be  under  a  con- 
tinual provocation  to  the  conflict  of  interests  which  the 
play,  as  we  see,  has  not  escaped.  Regarded  near  by,  the 
divorce  of  Katharine  was  a  pitiful  tragedy ;  regarded  in 
retrospect  it  seemed  big  with  the  destinies  of  England. 
Yet  the  earlier  Histories  had  presented  a  parallel  dif- 
ficulty without  involving  a  parallel  failure.  The  glories 
of  Henry  V.  like  those  of  Elizabeth  were  rooted  in  a 
crime,  but  no  such  rent  yawns  across  the  tragedy  of 
Richard  H.  as  that  which  so  fatally  divides  Henry  VHI. 
against  itself.     After  making  all  allowance  for  such  ob- 

25 


Comments 

stacles,  it  remains  true  that  the  total  effect  of  the  drama 
is  insignificant  in  proportion  to  the  splendour  of  detail 
and  the  superb  power  of  single  scenes.  Nothing  more 
damning  can  be  said  of  any  play,  and  nothing  like  it  can 
be  said  of  any  play  which  is  wholly  Shakespeare's  work. 
Hence,  in  point  simply  of  dramatic  quality,  the  play  justi- 
fies a  suspicion  that  it  is  not  entirely  Shakespeare's  work. 
Herford  :  The  Eversley  Shakespeare. 


The  Famous  History  of  the  Life  of 

King  Henry  VIII. 


Xi 


DRAMATIS   PERSONAE. 

King  Henry  the  Eighth. 

Cardinal  Wolsey. 

Cardinal  Campeius. 

Capucius,  Ambassador  from  the  Emperor  Charles  V, 

Cranmer,  ArchbisJiop  of  Canterbury. 

Duke  of  Norfolk. 

Duke  of  Buckingham. 

Duke  of  Suffolk. 

Earl  of  Surrey. 

Lord  Chamberlain. 

Lord  Chancellor. 

Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Winchester. 

Bishop  of  Lincoln, 

Lord  Abergavenny. 

Lord  Sands. 

Sir  Henry  Guildford. 

Sir  Thomas  Lovell. 

Sir  Anthony  Denny. 

Sir  Nicholas  Vaux. 

Secretaries  to  Wolsey. 

Cromwell.  Servant  to  Wolsey. 

Griffith,  Gentleman-usher  to  Queen  Katharine. 

Three  Gentlemen. 

Doctor  Butts,  Physician  to  the  King. 

Garter  King-at-Arms. 

Surveyor  to  the  Duke  of  Buckingham. 

Brandon,  and  a  Sergeant-at-Arms. 

Doorkeeper  of  the  Council-chamber.     Porter,  and  his  Man. 

Page  to  Gardiner.     A  Crier. 

Queen  Katharine,  wife  to  King  Henry,  afterzvards  divorced. 
Anne  Bullen,  her  Maid  of  Honour,  afterwards  Queen. 
An  old  Lady,  friend  to  Anne  Bullen. 
Patience,  zconian  to  Queen  Katharine. 

Several  Lords  and  Ladies  in  the  Dumb  Shows ;  Women  attending 
upon  the  Queen ;  Scribes,  Officers,  Guards,  and  other  At- 
tendants. 

Spirits. 

Scene:  London;  Westminster;  Kimbolton. 

3P 


The  Famous  History  of  the  Life  of 
King   Henry  VIII. 

THE  prologue:. 

I  come  no  more  to  make  you  laugh :  things  now, 
That  bear  a  weighty  and  a  serious  brow, 
Sad  high  and  working,  fuU  of  state  and  woe, 
Such  noble  scenes  as  draw  the  eye  to  flow, 
We  now  present.    Those  that  can  pity,  here 
May  if  thev  think  it  well,  let  fall  a  tear ; 
The  subject  wiU  deserve  it.    Such  as  give 
Their  monev  out  of  hope  they  may  beheve, 
May  here  find  truth  too.    Those  that  come  to  see   ^^ 
Onlv  a  show  or  two,  and  so  agree 
TheVlay  may  pass,  if  they  be  still  and  willing, 
I  '11  undertake  may  see  away  their  shilling 
Richly  in  two  short  hours.    Only  they 
That  come  to  hear  a  merry  bawdy  play, 
A  noise  of  targets,  or  to  see  a  fellow 
In  a  long  motlev  coat  guarded  with  ye  low, 
Will  be  deceived;  for,  gentle  hearers,  know, 
To  rank  our  chosen  truth  with  such  a  show 
As  fool  and  fight  is,  beside  forteitmg 
Our  own  brains  and  the  opinion  that  we  bring         20 
To  make  that  only  true  we  now  intend 
Will  leave  us  never  an  understanding  friend. 
Therefore,  for  goodness'  sake,  and  as  you  are  known 
The  first  and  happiest  hearers  of  the  town, 
Be  sad,  as  we  would  make  ye:  thmk  ye  see 
29 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

The  very  persons  of  our  noble  story 

As  they  were  Hving;  think  you  see  them  great, 

And  follow'd  with  the  general  throng  and  sweat 

Of  thousand  friends;   then,  in  a  moment,  see 

How  soon  this  mightiness  meets  misery:  30 

And  if  you  can  be  merry  then,  I  '11  say 

A  man  may  weep  upon  his  wedding-day. 

ACT  FIRST. 
Scene  I. 

London.     An  ante-chamber  in  the  palace. 

Enter  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  at  one  door;  at  the  other,  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham  and  the  Lord  Ahcrgairnny. 

Buck.  Good  morrow,  and  well  met.     How  have  ye  done 

Since  last  we  saw  in  France? 
Nor.  I  thank  your  grace, 

Healthful,  and  ever  since  a  fresh  admirer 

Of  what  I  saw  there. 
Buck.  An  untimely  ague 

Stay'd  me  a  prisoner  in  my  chamber,  when 

Those  suns  of  glory,  those  two  lights  of  men, 

Met  in  the  vale  of  Andren. 
Nor.  Twixt  Guynes  and  Arde: 

I  was  then  present,  saw  them  salute  on  horseback; 

Beheld  them,  when  they  'lighted,  how  they  clung 

In  their  embracement,  as  they  grew  together;  10 

Which  had  they,  what  four  throned  ones  could  have 
weigh 'd 

Such  a  compounded  one? 
Buck.  All  the  whole  time 

30 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

I  was  my  chamber's  prisoner. 
}^QY^  Then  you  lost 

The  view  of  earthly  glory:  men  might  say, 
Till  this  time  pomp  was  single,  but  now  married 
To  one  above  itself.    Each  following  day 
Became  the  next  day's  master,  till  the  last 
Made  former  wonders  its.    To-day  the  French, 
All  chnquant,  all  in  gold,  like  heathen  gods. 
Shone  down  the  English;  and  to-morrow  they       20 
Made  Britain  India:    every  man  that  stood 
Show'd  like  a  mine.    Their  dwarfish  pages  were 
As  cherubins,  all  gilt:  the  madams  too. 
Not  used  to  toil,  did  almost  sweat  to  bear 
The  pride  upon  them,  that  their  very  labour 
Was  to  them  as  a  painting:  now  this  masque 
Was  cried  incomparable;  and  the  ensuing  night 
Made  it  a  fool  and  beggar.    The  two  kings, 
Equal  in  lustre,  were  now  best,  now  worst, 
As  presence  did  present  them;   him  in  eye  30 

Still  him  in  praise ;  and  being  present  both, 
'Twas  said  they  saw  but  one,  -and  no  discerner 
Durst  wag  his  tongue  in  censure.  When  these  suns — 
For  so  they  phrase  'em — by  their  heralds  challenged 
The  noble  spirits  to  arms,  they  did  perform 
Beyond  thought's  compass;  that  former  fabulous  story, 
Being  now  seen  possible  enough,  got  credit, 
That  Bevis  was  believed. 

Buck.  O,  you  go  far. 

Nor.  As  I  belong  to  worship,  and  affect 

In  honour  honesty,  the  tract  of  every  thing  40 

Would  by  a  good  discourser  lose  some  Hfe, 
Which  action's  self  was  tongue  to.    All  was  royal; 

31 


Act  I.  Sc.  1.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

To  the  disposing  of  it  nought  rebell'd; 
Order  gave  each  thing  view;   the  office  did 
Distinctly  his  full  function. 

Buck.  Who  did  guide, 

I  mean,  who  set  the  body  and  the  limbs 
Of  this  great  sport  together,  as  you  guess? 

A'or.  One,  certes,  that  promises  no  element 
In  such  a  business. 

Buck.  I  pray  you,  who,  my  lord? 

Nor.  All  this  was  order'd  by  the  good  discretion^  5c 

Of  the  right  reverend  Cardinal  of  York. 

Buck.  The  devil  speed  him  !  no  man's  pie  is  freed 
From  his  ambitious  finger.    What  had  he 
To  do  in  these  fierce  vanities?    I  wonder 
That  such  a  keech  can  with  his  very  bulk 
Take  up  the  rays  o'  the  beneficial  sun, 
And  keep  it  from  the  earth. 

Ahir.  Surely,  sir, 

There  's  in  him  stuff  that  puts  him  to  these  ends; 
For,  being  not  propp'd  by  ancestry,  whose  grace 
Chalks  successors  their  way,  nor  call'd  upon  6c 

For  high  feats  done  to  the  crown;   neither  allied 
To  eminent  assistants;  but,  spider-like, 
Out  of  his  self-drawing  web,  he  gives  us  note, 
The  force  of  his  own  merit  makes  his  way; 
A  gift  that  heaven  gives  for  him,  which  buys 
A  place  next  to  the  king. 

Abcr.  I  cannot  tell 

What  heaven  hath  given  him;  let  some  graver  eye 
Pierce  into  that;  but  I  can  see  his  pride 
Peep  through  each  part  of  him:  whence  has  he  that? 
If  not  from  hell,  the  devil  is  a  niggard,  70 

32 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

Or  has  given  all  before,  and  he  begins 
A  new  hell  in  himself. 
Bjtck.  Why  the  devil, 

Upon  this  French  going  out,  took  he  upon  him. 
Without  the  privity  o'  the  king,  to  appoint 
Who  should  attend  on  him?    He  makes  up  the  file 
Of  all  the  gentry;  for  the  most  part  such 
To  whom  as  great  a  charge  as  little  honour 
He  meant  to  lay  upon :   and  his  own  letter, 
The  honourable  board  of  council  out, 
Must  fetch  him  in  he  papers. 
^l,cr.  I  ^^  know  So 

Kinsmen  of  mine,  three  at  the  least,  that  have 
By  this  so  sicken'd  their  estates  that  never 
They  shall  abound  as  formerly. 
Buck.  O,  many 

Have  broke  their  backs  with  laying  manors  on  'em 
For  this  great  journey.    Wliat  did  this  vaniiy 
But  minister  communication  of 
A  most  poor  issue? 
l^Qfr^  Grievingly  I  think, 

The  peace  between  the  French  and  us  not  values 
The  cost  that  did  conclude  it. 
Buck.  Everyman, 

After  the  hideous  storm  that  foUow'd,  was  90 

A  thing  inspired,  and  not  consulting  broke 
Into  a  general  prophecy:   That  this  tempest, 
Dashing  the  garment  of  this  peace,  aboded 
The  sudden  breach  on  't. 
y^^  Which  is  budded  out ; 

For  France  hath  flaw'd  the  league,  and  hath  attached 
Our  merchants'  goods  at  Bourdeaux. 
33 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

'4ber.  Is  it  therefore 

The  ambassador  is  silenced? 

Nor.  Marry,  is  't. 

Aber.  A  proper  title  of  a  peace,  and  purchased 
At  a  superfluous  rate! 

Buck.  Why,  all  this  business 

Our  reverend  cardinal  carried. 

Nor.  Like  it  your  grace,     lOO 

The  state  takes  notice  of  the  private  difference 
Betwixt  you  and  the  cardinal.    I  advise  you — 
And  take  it  from  a  heart  that  wishes  towards  you 
Honour  and  plenteous  safety — that  you  read 
The  cardinal's  malice  and  his  potency 
Together;   to  consider  further  that 
What  his  high  hatred  would  effect  wants  not 
A  minister  in  his  power.    You  know  his  nature, 
That  he  's  revengeful,  and  I  know  his  sword 
Hath  a  sharp  edge;  it 's  long  and  't  may  be  said 
It  reaches  far,  and  where  'twill  not  extend,  1 1 1 

Thither  he  darts  it.    Bosom  up  my  counsel; 
You  '11  find  it  wholesome.     Lo,  where  comes  that 

rock 
That  I  advise  your  shunning. 

Enter  Cardinal  Wolscy,  the  purse  borne  before  him,  cer- 
tain of  the  Guard,  and  two  Secretaries  zvith  papers. 
The  Cardinal  in  his  passage  fixcth  his  eye  on  Buck- 
ingham, and  Buckingham  on  him,  both  full  of 
disdain. 

Wol.  The  Duke  of  Buckingham's  surveyor,  ha? 

Where  's  his  examination  ? 
First  Sec.  Here,  so  please  you. 

Wol.   Is  he  in  person  ready  ? 

34 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

First  Sec.  Ay,  please  your  grace. 

JVoL  Well,  we  shall  then  know  more;  and  Buckingham 
Shall  lessen  this  big  look. 

[Exeunt  Wolsey  and  his  train. 

Buck.  This  butcher's  cur  is  venom-mouth'd,  and  I        120 
Have  not  the  power  to  muzzle  him;  therefore  best 
Not  wake  him  in  his  slumber.     A  beggar's  book 
Outworths  a  noble's  blood. 

^Yor.  What,  are  you  chafed  ? 

Ask  God  for  temperance;   that 's  the  appHance  only 
Which  your  disease  requires. 

Buck.  I  read  in  's  looks 

Matter  against  me,  and  his  eye  reviled 
Me  as  his  abject  object :  at  this  instant 
He  bores  me  with  some  trick  :  he  's  gone  to  the  king ; 
I  '11  follow  and  outstare  him. 

^or.  Stay,  my  lord, 

And  let  your  reason  with  your  choler  question     130 
What  'tis  you  go  about :   to  climb  steep  hills 
Requires  slow  pace  at  first:  anger  is  Hke 
A  full-hot  horse,  who  being  allow'd  his  way, 
Self-mettle  tires  him.    Not  a  man  in  England 
Can  advise  me  Hke  you:  be  to  yourself 
As  you  would  to  your  friend. 

Buck.  I '11  to  the  king ; 

And  from  a  mouth  of  honour  quite  cry  down 
This  Ipswich  fellow's  insolence,  or  proclaim 
There  's  difference  in  no  persons. 

]\[or.  ^^  advised ; 

Heat  not  a  furnace  for  your  foe  so  hot  140 

That  it  do  singe  yourself:  we  may  outrun, 
By  violent  swiftness,  that  which  Ve  run  at, 
35 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

And  lose  by  over-running.    Know  you  not, 
The  fire  that  mounts  the  hquor  till 't  run  o'er 
In  seeming  to  augment  it  wastes  it?    Be  advised: 
I  say  again,  there  is  no  English  soul 
More  stronger  to  direct  you  than  yourself, 
If  with  the  sap  of  reason  you  would  quench. 
Or  but  allay,  the  fire  of  passion. 

Buck.  Sir, 

I  am  thankful  to  you;  and  I '11  go  along  150 

By  3^our  prescription:  but  this  top-proud  fellow — 
Whom  from  the  flow  of  gall  I  name  not,  but 
From  sincere  motions — by  intelligence 
And  proofs  as  clear  as  founts  in  July  when 
We  see  each  grain  of  gravel,  I  do  know 
To  be  corrupt  and  treasonous. 

Nor.  Say  not   '  treasonous.' 

Buck.  To  the  king  I  '11  say  't ;  and  make  my  vouch  as  strong 
As  shore  of  rock.    Attend.    This  holy  fox, 
Or  wolf,  or  both — for  he  is  equal  ravenous 
As  he  is  subtle,  and  as  prone  to  mischief  160 

As  able  to  perform  't;   his  mind  and  place 
Infecting  one  another,  yea,  reciprocally — 
Only  to  show  his  pomp  as  well  in  France 
As  here  at  home,  suggests  the  king  our  master 
To  this  last  costly  treaty,  the  interview. 
That  swallow'd  so  much  treasure,  and  like  a  glass 
Did  break  i'  the  renching. 

N'or.  Faith,  and  so  it  did. 

Buck.  Pray,  give  me  favour,  sir.    This  cunning  cardinal 
The  articles  o'  the  combination  drew 
As  himself  pleased  ;   and  they  were  ratified  170 

As  he  cried  '  Thus  let  be,'  to  as  much  end 

36 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  I.  Sc.  i. 

As  give  a  crutch  to  the  dead:  but  our  count-cardinal 

Has  done  this,  and  'tis  well;  for  worthy  Wolsey, 

Who  cannot  err,  he  did  it.     Now  this  follows — 

Which,  as  I  take  it,  is  a  kind  of  puppy 

To  the  old  dam,  treason — Charles  the  emperor, 

Under  pretence  to  see  the  queen  his  aunt — 

For  'twas  indeed  his  colour,  but  he  came 

To  whisper  Wolsey — here  makes  visitation: 

His  fears  were  that  the  interview  betwixt  i8o 

England  and  France  might  through  their  amity 

Breed  him  some  prejudice;  for  from  this  league 

Peep'd  harms  that    iienaced  him:  he  privily 

Deals  with  our  cardinal;   and,  as  I  trow — 

Which  I  do  well,  for  I  am  sure  the  emperor 

Paid  ere  he  promised;  whereby  his  suit  was  granted 

Ere  it  was  ask'd — but  when  the  way  was  made 

And  paved  with  gold,  the  emperor  thus  desired, 

That  he  would  please  to  alter  the  king's  course. 

And  break  the  foresaid  peace.    Let  the  king  know, 

As  soon  he  shall  by  me,  that  thus  the  cardinal       191 

Does  buy  and  sell  his  honour  as  he  pleases. 

And  for  his  own  advantage. 

A^or.  I  am  sorry 

To  hear  this  of  him,  and  could  wish  he  were 
Something  mistaken  in  't. 

Buck.  Xo,  not  a  syllable: 

I  do  pronounce  him  in  that  very  shape 
He  shall  appear  in  proof. 

Enter  Brandon,  a  Sergeant  at  arms  before  him, 
and  tzvo  or  three  of  the  Guard. 

Bran.  Your  office,  sergeant;    execute  it. 

37 


Act  I.  Sc.  i.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Serg.  Sir, 

My  lord  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  ciiid  Earl 

Of  Hereford,  Stafford,  and  Northampton,  I  200 

Arrest  thee  of  high  treason,  in  the  name 

Of  our  most  sovereign  king. 

Buck.  Lo  you,  my  lord. 

The  net  has  fall'n  upon  me!    I  shall  perish 
Under  device  and  practice. 

Bran.  I  am  sorry 

To  see  you  ta'en  from  liberty,  to  look  on 
The  business  present:   'tis  his  highness'  pleasure 
You  shall  to  the  Tower. 

Buck.  It  will  help  me  nothing 

To  plead  mine  innocence;  for  that  dye  is  on  me 
Which  makes  my  whitest  part  black.     The  will  of 

heaven 
Be  done  in  this  and  all  things!    I  obey.  210 

O  my  Lord  Abergavenny,  fare  you  well! 

Bran.  Nay, he  must  bear  you  company.  [To  Abergavenny'] 
The  king 
Is  pleased  you  shall  to  the  Tower,  till  you  know 
How  he  determines  further. 

Aber.  As  the  duke  said. 

The  will  of  heaven  be  done,  and  the  king's  pleasure 
By  me  obey'd! 

Bran.  Here  is  a  warrant  from 

The  king  to  attach  Lord  Montacute;  and  the  bodies 
Of  the  duke's  confessor,  John  de  la  Car, 
One  Gilbert  Peck,  his  chancellor, — 

■Buck.  So,  so;  219 

These  are  the  limbs  o'  the  plot:  no  more,  I  hope.  . 

Bran.  A  monk  o'  the  Chartreux. 

38 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

Buck.  O,  Nicholas  Hopkins? 

Bran.  He. 

Buck.  My  surveyor  is  false;   the  o'er-great  cardinal 
Hath  show'd  him  gold;  my  life  is  spann'd  already: 
I  am  the  shadow  of  poor  Buckingham, 
Whose  figure  even  this  instant  cloud  puts  on, 
By  darkening  my  clear  sun.     My  lord,  farewell. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  II. 

The  same.     The  council-chamber. 
Cornets.     Enter  King  Henry,  leaning  on  the  Cardinals 
shoulder;   the  Nobles,  and  Sir  Thomas  Lovell:   the 
Cardinal  places  himself  under  the  king's  feet  on  his 
right  side. 

King.  My  life  itself,  and  the»best  heart  of  it, 

Thanks  you  for  this  great  care:  I  stood  i'  the  level 
Of  a  full-charged  confederacy,  and  give  thanks 
To  you  that  choked  it.    Let  be  call'd  before  us 
That  gentleman  of  Buckingham's;  in  person 
I  '11  hear  him  his  confessions  justify; 
And  point  by  point  the  treasons  of  his  master 
He  shall  again  relate. 

A  noise  within,  crying  'Room  for  the  Queen!'  Enter 
Queen  Katharine,  ushered  by  the  Duke  of  Norfolk, 
and  the  Duke  of  Suffolk:  she  kneels.  The  King 
riseth  from  his  state,  takes  her  up,  kisses  and  placeth 
her  by  him. 

Q.  Kath.  Nay,  we  must  longer  kneel :   I  am  a  suitor. 

King.  Arise,  and  take  place  by  us:  half  your  suit  lo 

Never  name  to  us;  you  have  half  our  power: 
The  other  moiety  ere  you  ask  is  given; 
Repeat  your  will  and  take  it. 

39 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Q.  Kath.  Thank  your  majesty. 

That  you  would  love  yourself,  and  in  that  love 
Not  unconsider'd  leave  your  honour  nor 
The  dignity  of  your  ofBce,  is  the  point 
Of  my  petition. 

King.  Lady  mine,  proceed. 

Q.  Kath.  I  am  solicited,  not  by  a  few, 

And  those  of  true  condition,  that  your  subjects 
Are  in  great  grievance  :  there  have  been  commissions 
Sent  down  among  'em,  which  hath  flaw'd  the  heart  21 
Of  all  their  loyalties:  wherein  although, 
My  good  lord  cardinal,  they  vent  reproaches 
Most  bitterly  on  you  as  putter  on 
Of  these  exactions,  yet  the  king  our  master — 
Whose  honour  heaven  shield  from  soil! — even  he 

escapes  not 
Language  unmannerly,  yea,  such  which  breaks 
The  sides  of  loyalty,  and  almost  appears 
In  loud  rebellion. 

Nor.  Not  almost  appears; 

It  doth  appear;   for,  upon  these  taxations,  30 

The  clothiers  all,  not  able  to  maintain 
The  many  to  them  'longing,  have  put  ofif 
The  spinsters,  carders,  fullers,  weavers,  who, 
Unfit  for  other  life,  compell'd  by  hunger 
And  lack  of  other  means,  in  desperate  manner 
Daring  the  event  to  the  teeth,  are  all  in  uproar, 
And  danger  serves  among  them. 

King.  Taxation! 

Wherein  ?   and  what  taxation  ?     My  lord  cardinal, 
You  that  are  blamed  for  it  alike  with  us, 
Know  you  of  this  taxation? 
40 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

JVoI.  Please  you,  sir,  4c 

I  know  but  of  a  single  part  in  aught 
Pertains  to  the  state,  and  front  but  in  that  file 
Where  others  tell  steps  with  me. 

0.  Kath.  No,  my  lord. 

You  know  no  more  than  others:  but  you  frame 
Things  that  are  known  alike,  which  are  not  whole- 
some 
To  those  which  would  not  know  them,  and  yet  must 
Perforce  be  their  acquaintance.    These  exactions, 
Whereof  my  sovereign  would  have  note,  they  are 
Most  pestilent  to  the  hearing;  and,  to  bear  'em, 
The  back  is  sacrifice  to  the  load.    They  say  50 

They  are  devised  by  you;   or  else  you  suffer 
Too  hard  an  exclamation. 

Khig.  Still  exaction! 

The  nature  of  it?  in  what  kind,  let  's  know. 
Is  this  exaction? 

0.  Kath.  I  am  much  too  venturous 

In  tempting  of  your  patience,  but  am  bolden'd 
Under  your  promised  pardon.    The  subjects'  grief 
Comes   through   commissions,   which   compel  from 

each 
The  sixth  part  of  his  substance,  to  be  levied 
Without  delay;   and  the  pretence  for  this 
Is  named   your   wars   in   France :    this   makes   bold 
mouths:  60 

Tongues  spit  their  duties  out,  and  cold  hearts  freeze 
Allegiance  in  them;   their  curses  now 
Live  where  their  prayers  did;  and  it  's  come  to  pass, 
This  tractable  obedience  is  a  slave 
To  each  incensed  will.    I  would  your  highness 
Would  give  it  quick  consideration,  for 

41 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

There  13  no  primer  business. 

Ki)ig.  By  my  life, 

This  is  against  our  pleasure. 

WoL  And  for  me, 

I  have  no  further  gone  in  this  than  by 
A  single  voice,  and  that  not  pass'd  me  but  70 

By  learned  approbation  of  the  judges.    If  I  am 
Traduced  by  ignorant  tongues,  which  neither  know 
My  faculties  nor  person,  yet  will  be 
The  chronicles  of  my  doing,  let  me  say 
'Tis  but  the  fate  of  place,  and  the  rough  brake 
That  virtue  must  go  through.    We  must  not  stint 
Our  necessary  actions,  in  the  fear 
To  cope  malicious  censurers;  which  ever, 
As  ravenous  fishes,  do  a  vessel  follow 
That  is  new-trimm'd,  but  benefit  no  further  80 

Than  vainly  longing.    What  we  oft  do  best. 
By  sick  interpreters,  once  weak  ones,  is 
Not  ours  or  not  allow'd;  what  worst,  as  oft, 
Hitting  a  grosser  quality,  is  cried  up 
For  our  best  act.    If  we  shall  stand  still. 
In  fear  our  notion  will  be  mock'd  or  carp'd  at, 
We  should  take  root  here  where  we  sit,  or  sit 
State-statues  only. 

Kuig.  Things  done  well, 

And  with  a  care,  exempt  themselves  from  fear; 

Things  done  without  example,  in  their  issue  90 

Are  to  be  fear'd.    Have  you  a  precedent 

Of  this  commission?    I  believe,  not  any. 

We  must  not  rend  our  subjects  from  our  laws. 

And  stick  them  in  our  will.    Sixth  part  of  each? 

A  trembling  contribution!    ,Why,  we  take 

42 


LIFE  or  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

From  every  tree  lop,  bark,  and  part  o'  the  timber, 
And  though  we  leave  it  with  a  root,  thus  hack'd, 
The  air  will  drink  the  sap.    To  every  county 
Where  this  is  question'd  send  our  letters,  with 
Free  pardon  to  each  man  that  has  denied  loo 

The  force  of  this  commission:  pray,  look  to  't; 
I  put  it  to  your  care. 

^oL  [To  the  Secretary]    A  word  with  you. 

Let  there  be  letters  writ  to  every  shire, 
Of  the  king's  grace  and  pardon.  The  grieved  commons 
Hardly  conceive  of  mc:   let  it  be  noised 
That  through  our  intercession  this  revokement 
And  pardon  comes;   I  shall  anon  advise  you 
Further  in  the  proceeding.  [Exit  Secretary. 

Enter  Surveyor. 

Q.  Kath.  I  am  sorry  that  the  Duke  of  Buckingham 
Is  run  in  your  displeasure. 

Ki^g'  It  grieves  many:  no 

The  gentleman  is  learn'd  and  a  most  rare  speaker; 
To  nature  none  more  bound;   his  training  such 
That  he  may  furnish  and  instruct  great  teachers. 
And  never  seek  for  aid  out  of  himself.    Yet  see, 
When  these  so  noble  benefits  shall  prove 
Not  well  disposed,  the  mind  growing  once  corrupt, 
They  turn  to  vicious  forms,  ten  times  more  ugly 
Than  ever  they  were  fair.    This  man  so  complete, 
Who  was  enroll'd  'mongst  wonders,  and  when  we,' 
Almost  with  ravish'd  listening,  could  not  find       120 
His  hour  of  speech  a  minute;  he,  my  lady, 
Hath  into  monstrous  habits  put  the  graces 
That  once  were  his,  and  is  become  as  black 
43 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

As  if  besmear'd  in  hell.    Sit  by  us ;  you  shall  hear — 
This  was  his  gentleman  in  trust — of  him 
Things  to  strike  honour  sad.    Bid  him  recount 
The  fore-recited  practices;   whereof 
We  cannot  feel  too  little,  hear  too  much. 

Wol.  Stand  forth,  and  with  bold  spirit  relate  what  you, 
Most  like  a  careful  subject,  have  collected  130 

Out  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham. 

King.  Speak  freely. 

Surz:  First,  it  was  usual  with  him,  every  day 
It  would  infect  his  speech,  that  if  the  king 
Should  without  issue  die,  he  '11  carry  it  so 
To  make  the  sceptre  his :  these  very  words 
I  've  heard  him  utter  to  his  son-in-law. 
Lord  Abergavenny,  to  whom  by  oath  he  menaced 
Revenge  upon  the  cardinal. 

IVoL  Please  your  highness,  note 

This  dangerous  conception  in  this  point. 
Not  friended  by  his  wish,  to  your  high  person       140 
His  will  is  most  malignant,  and  it  stretches 
Beyond  you  to  your  friends. 

Q.  Kafh.  My  learn'd  lord  cardinal, 

Deliver  ah  with  charity. 

King.  Speak  on : 

How  grounded  he  his  title  to  the  crown 

Upon  our  fail  ?  to  this  point  hast  thou  heard  him 

At  any  time  speak  aught? 

S'urv.  He  was  brought  to  this 

By  a  vain  prophecy  of  Nicholas  Henton. 

King.  What  was  that  Henton? 

Surz'.  Sir,  a  Chartreux  friar, 

His  confessor,  who  fed  him  every  minute 

44 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  I.  Sc.  ii. 

With  words  of  sovereignty. 
King.  -  How  know'st  thou  this  ?  150 

Siirz:  Not  long  before  your  highness  sped  to  France, 
The  duke  being  at  the  Rose,  within  the  parish 
Saint  Lawrence  PouUney,  did  of  me  demand 
What  was  the  speech  among  the  Londoners 
Concerning  the  French  journey:    I  repHed, 
Men  fear'd  the  French  would  prove  perfidious, 
To  the  king's  danger.     Presently  the  duke 
Said,  'twas  the  fear  indeed,  and  that  he  doubted 
'Twould  prove  the  verity  of  certain  words 
Spoke  by  a  holy  monk  ;  '  That  oft,'  says  he,  160 

'  Hath  sent  to  me,  wishing  me  to  permit 
John  de  la  Car,  my  chaplain,  a  choice  hour 
To  hear  from  him  a  matter  of  some  moment: 
Whom  after  under  the  confession's  seal 
He  solemnly  had  sworn,  that  what  he  spoke 
My  chaplain  to  no  creature  living  but 
To  me  should  utter,  with  demure  confidence 
This  pausingly  ensued :  Neither  the  king  nor  's  heirs, 
Tell  you  the  duke,  shall  prosper :  bid  him  strive 
To  gain  the  love  o'  the  commonalty  :   the  duke      170 
Shall  govern  England.' 
Q,  KatJi.  If  I  know  you  well, 

You  were  the  duke's  surveyor  and  lost  your  office 
On  the  complaint  o'  the  tenants :   take  good  heed 
You  charge  not  in  your  spleen  a  noble  person 
And  spoil  your  nobler  soul :   I  say,  take  heed ; 
Yes,  heartily  beseech  you. 
Kiiig.  Let  him  on. 

Go  forward. 
Siirv.  On  my  soul,  I  '11  speak  but  truth. 

45 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

I  told  my  lord  the  duke,  by  the  devil's  illusions 
The    monk    might    be    deceived;     and    that    'twas 

dangerous  for  him 
To  ruminate  on  this  so  far,  until  i8o 

It  forged  him  some  design,  which,  being  believed, 
It  was  much  like  to  do  :  he  answer'd  '  Tush, 
It  can  do  me  no  damage ; '  adding  further. 
That,  had  the  king  in  his  last  sickness  fail'd. 
The  cardinal's  and  Sir  Thomas  Lovell's  heads 
Should  have  gone  of¥. 

King.  Ha!   what,  so  rank?  Ah,  ha! 

There 's    mischief    in    this    man :     canst    thou    say 
further? 

Surv.  I  can,  my  liege. 

King.  Proceed. 

Surv.  Being  at  Greenwich, 

After  your  highness  had  reproved  the  duke 
About  Sir  William  Bulmer, — 

King.  I  remember  190 

Of  such  a  time :   being  my  sworn  servant, 
The  duke  retain'd  him  his.     But  on;  what  hence? 

Surv.  '  If '  quoth  he  '  I  for  this  had  been  committed. 
As  to  the  Tower  I  thought,  I  would  have  play'd 
The  part  my  father  meant  to  act  upon 
The  usurper  Richard ;  who,  being  at  Salisbury, 
Made  suit  to  come  in  's  presence;  which  if  granted, 
As  he  made  semblance  of  his  duty,  would 
Have  put  his  knife  into  him.' 

King.  A  giant  traitor! 

Wol.  Now,  madam,  may  his  highness  live  in  freedom, 
And  this  man  out  of  prison? 

Q.  Kaih.  God  mend  all!  201 

46 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.         Act  I.  Sc.  ill 

King.  There  's  something  more  would  out  of  thee;  what 
say'st? 

Surv.  After  'the  duke  his  father,'  with  the  '  knife,' 

He  stretch'd  him,  and  with  one  hand  on  his  dagger, 
Another  spread  on  's  breast,  mounting  his  eyes, 
He  did  discharge  a  horrible  oath,  whose  tenour 
Was,  were  he  evil  used,  he  would  outgo 
His  father  by  as  much  as  a  performance 
Does  an  irresolute  purpose. 

King.  There  's  his  period. 

To  sheathe  his  knife  in  us.    He  is  attach'd;  210 

Call  him  to  present  trial :   if  he  'may 

Find  mercy  in  the  law,  'tis  his;    if  none, 

Let  him  not  seek  't  of  us:  by  day  and  night! 

He  's  traitor  to  the  height.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

An  ante-chamber  in  the  palace. 
Enter  the  Lord  Chamberlain  and  Lord  Sands. 

Cham.  Is  't  possible  the  spells  of  France  should  juggle 
Men  into  such  strange  mysteries? 

Sands.  New  customs, 

Though  they  be  never  so  ridiculous. 
Nay,  let  'em  be  unmanly,  yet  are  follow'd. 

Cham.  As  far  as  I  see,  all  the  good  our  English 
Have  got  by  the  late  voyage  is  but  merely 
A  fit  or  two  o'  the  face;  but  they  are  shrewd  ones; 
For  when  they  hold  'em,  you  would  swear  directly 
Their  very  noses  had  been  counsellors 
To  Pepin  or  Clotharius,  they  keep  state  so.  10 

47 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.         FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Sands.  They  have  all  new  legs,  and  lame  ones :  one  would 
take  it, 

That  never  saw  'em  pace  before,  the  spavin 

Or  springhalt  reign'd  among  'em. 
Cham.  Death !    my  lord, 

Their  clothes  are  after  such  a  pagan  cut  too. 

That,  sure,  they  Ve  worn  out  Christendom. 

Enter  Sir  Thomas  Lovell. 

How  now ! 
What  news.  Sir  Thomas  Lovell? 

Loz\  •  Faith,  my  lord, 

I  hear  of  none  but  the  new  proclamation 
That 's  clapp'd  upon  the  court-gate. ^ 

Cham.  What  is  't  for? 

Lov.  The  reformation  of  our  travell'd  gallants, 

That  fill  the  court  with  quarrels,  talk,  and  tailors. 

Cham.  I  'm    glad  'tis    there :     now    I    would    pray    our 
monsieurs  21 

To  think  an  English  courtier  may  be  wise, 
And  never  see  the  Louvre. 

Loz\  They  must  either. 

For  so  run  the  conditions,  leave  those  remnants 
Of  fool  and  feather  that  they  got  in  France, 
With  all  their  honourable  points  of  ignorance 
Pertaining  thereunto,  as  fights  and  fireworks, 
Abusing  better  men  than  they  can  be 
Out  of  a  foreign  wisdom,  renouncing  clean 
The  faith  they  have  in  tennis  and  tall  stockings,     30 
Short  blister'd  breeches  and  those  types  of  travel, 
And  understand  again  like  honest  men. 
Or  pack  to  their  old  playfellows:   there,  I  take  it, 

48 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  I.  Sc.  iii. 

They  may,  '  cum  privilegio,'  wear  away 
The' lag  end  of  their  lewdness,  and  be  laugh'd  at. 
Sands.  'Tis  time  to  give  'em  physic,  their  diseases 

Are  grown  so  catching. 
Cham.  What  a  loss  our  ladies 

Will  have  of  these  trim  vanities! 
Lov.  Ay,  marry. 

There  will  be  woe  indeed,  lords:   the  sly  whoresons 
Have  got  a  speeding  trick  to  lay  down  ladies ;        40 
A  French  song  and  a  fiddle  has  no  fellow. 
Sands.  The  devil  fiddle  'em!   I  am  glad  they  are  going. 
For,  sure,  there  's  no  converting  of  'em:   now 
An  honest  country  lord,  as  I  am,  beaten 
A  long  time  out  of  play,  may  bring  his  plain-song. 
And  have  an  hour  of  hearing;   and,  by  'r  lady, 
Held  current  music  too. 
Cham.  Well  said.  Lord  Sands; 

Your  colt's  tooth  is  not  cast  yet. 
Sands.  ^o,  my  lord; 

Xor  shall  not,  while  I  have  a  stump. 
Cham.  Sir  Thomas, 

Whither  were  you  a-going? 
Lov.  To  the  cardinal's:        5^ 

Your  lordship  is  a  guest  too. 
Cham.  O,  'tis  true: 

This  night  he  makes  a  supper,  and  a  great  one, 
To  many  lords  and  ladies ;  there  will  be 
The  beauty  of  this  kingdom,  I  '11  assure  you. 
Loi'.  That  churchman  bears  a  bounteous  mind  indeed, 
A  hand  as  fruitful  as  the  land  that  feeds  us; 
His  dews  fall  every  where. 
Cham.  No  doubt  he  's  noble; 

49 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

He  had  a  black  mouth  that  said  other  of  him. 

Sands.  He  may,  my  lord;   has  wherewithal:    in  him 
Sparing  would  show  a  worse  sin  than  ill  doctrine: 
Men  of  his  way  should  be  most  liberal ;  6i 

They  are  set  here  for  examples. 

Cham.  True,  they  are    so; 

But  few  now  give  so  great  ones.     My  barge  stays; 
Your  lordship  shall  along.  Come,  good  Sir  Thomas, 
We  shall  be  late  else;  which  I  would  not  be, 
For  I  was  spoke  to,  with  Sir  Henry  Guildford 
This  night  to  be  comptrollers. 

Sands.  I  am  your  lordship's. 

[Exeunt. 
Scene  IV. 

'A  hall  in  York  Place. 

Hautboys.  A  small  table  under  a  state  for  the  Cardinal,  a 
longer  table  for  the  guests.  Then  enter  Anne  Bullen 
and  divers  other  Ladies  and  Gentlemen  as  guests,  at 
one  door;  at  another  door,  enter  Sir  Henry  Guild- 
ford. 

Guild.  Ladies,  a  general  welcome  from  his  grace 
Salutes  ye  ah;   this  night  he  dedicates 
To  fair  content  and  you:   none  here,  he  hopes, 
In  all  this  noble  bevy,  has  brought  with  her 
One  care  abroad;   he  would  have  all  as  merry 
As,  first,  good  company,  good  wine,  good  welcome. 
Can  make  good  people. 

Enter  the  Lord  Clianibcrlain,  Lord  Sands, 
and  Sir  Thomas  Lovell. 

O,  my  lord,  you  're  tardy: 
The  very  thought  of  this  fair  company 

50 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  I.  Sc.  iv. 

Clapp'd  wings  to  me. 
Cham.  You  are  young,  Sir  Henry  Guildford. 

Sands.  5ir  Thomas  Lovell,  had  the  cardinal  lo 

But  half  my  lay  thoughts  in  him,  some  of  these 

Should  find  a  running  banquet  ere  they  rested, 

I  think  would  better  please  'em:   by  my  hfe, 

They  are  a  sweet  society  of  fair  ones. 
Loz'.  O,  that  your  lordship  were  but  now  confessor 

To  one  or  two  of  these! 
Sands.  I  would  I  were; 

They  should  find  easy  penance. 
Lov.  Faith,  how  easy? 

Sands.  As  easy  as  a  down-bed  would  afford  it. 
Chain.  Sweet  ladies,  w411  it  please  you  sit?    Sir  Harry, 

Place  you  that  side;   I  '11  take  the  charge  of  this:  20 

His  grace  is  entering.     Nay,  you  must  not  freeze; 

Two  women  placed  together  makes  cold  weather: 

My  Lord  Sands,  you  are  one  will  keep  'em  waking; 

Pray,  sit  between  these  ladies. 
Sands.  By  my  faith, 

And  thank  your  lordship.     By  your  leave,  sweet 
ladies : 

If  I  chance  to  talk  a  little  wild,  forgive  me; 

I  had  it  from  my  father. 
Anne.  Was  he  mad,  sir? 

Sands.  O,  very  mad,  exceeding  mad,  in  love  too : 

But  he  would  bite  none;   just  as  I  do  now, 

He  w^ould  kiss  you  twenty  with  a  breath. 

[Kisses  her. 
Cham.  Well  said,  my  lord.     30 

So,  now  you  're  fairly  seated.     Gentlemen, 

The  penance  lies  on  you,  if  these  fair  ladies 

51. 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Pass  away  frowning. 
Sands.  For  my  little  cure, 

Let  me  alone. 

Hautboys.    Enter  Cardinal  Wolscy,  and  takes  his  state. 

Wol.  You  're  welcome,  my  fair  guests :   that  noble  lady 

Or  gentleman  that  is  not  freely  merry, 

Is  not  my  friend:   this,  to  confirm  my  welcome  I 

And  to  you  all,  good  health.  [Drinks. 

Sands.  Your  grace  is  noble: 

Let  me  have  such  a  bowl  may  hold  my  thanks. 

And  save  me  so  much  talking. 
Wol.  My  Lord  Sands,     40 

I  am  beholding  to  you:    cheer  your  neighbours. 

Ladies,  you  are  not  merry:   gentlemen. 

Whose  fault  is  this  ? 
Sands.  The  red  wine  first  must  rise 

In  their  fair  cheeks,  my  lord;  then  we  shall  have  'em 

Talk  us  to  silence. 
Anne.  You  are  a  merry  gamester. 

My  Lord  Sands. 
Sands.  Yes,  if  I  make  my  play. 

Here  's  to  your  ladyship :    and  pledge  it,  madam. 

For  'tis  to  such  a  thing — 
Anne.  You  cannot  show  me. 

Sands.  I  told  your  grace  they  would  talk  anon. 

[Drum  and  trumpet:  chambers  discharged. 
Wol.  What's  that? 

Cham.  Look  out  there,  some  of  ye.  [Exit  Scrimnt. 

Wol.  What  warlike  voice,     50 

And  to  what  end,  is  this?    Nay,  ladies,  fear  not; 

By  all  the  laws  of  war  you  're  privileged. 

52 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  I.  Sc.  iv. 

Re-enter  Servant. 
Cham.  How  now  !   what  is  't  ? 
Serv.  A  noble  troop  of  strangers  ; 

For   so  they  seem :    they  've   left   their   barge,    and 

landed ; 
And  hither  make,  as  great  ambassadors 
From  foreign  princes. 
IVol.  Good  lord  chamberlain, 

Go,  give  'em  welcome;    you  can  speak  the  French 

tongue ; 
And,  pray,  receive  'em  nobly  and  conduct  'em 
Into  our  presence,  where  this  heaven  of  beauty 
Shall  shine  at  full  upon  them.    Some  attend  him.     60 
[Exit  Chamherlain  attended.    All 
rise,  and  tables  removed. 
You  have  now  a  broken  banquet ;  but  we  '11  mend  it. 
A  good  digestion  to  you  all :  and  once  more 
I  shower  a  welcome  on  ye ;   welcome  all. 

Hautboys.  Enter  the  King  and  others,  as  masquers, 
habited  like  shepherds,  ushered  by  the  Lord  Cham- 
berlain.    They  pass  direetly  before  the  Cardinal,  and 

gracefully  salute  him. 

A  noble  company!   what  are  their  pleasures? 

Cham.  Because  they  speak  no  English,  thus  they  pray'd 
To  tell  your  grace,  that,  having  heard  by  fame 
Of  this  so  noble  and  so  fair  assembly 
This  night  to  meet  here,  they  could  do  no  less. 
Out  of  the  great  respect  they  bear  to  beauty. 
But  leave  their  flocks,  and  under  your  fair  conduct  70 
Crave  leave  to  view  these  ladies  and  entreat 
An  hour  of  revels  with  'em. 

IFo/.  Say,  lord  chamberlain. 

53 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

They  have  done  my  poor  house  grace;    for  which  I 
pay  'em 

A  thousand  thanks  and  pray  'em  take  their  pleasures. 
[TJicy  choose.    The  King  chooses  Anne  Bullen. 
King.  The  fairest  hand  I  ever  touch'd !   O  beauty, 

Till  now  I  never  knew  thee !  [Music.    Dance. 

Wol.  My  lord! 
Cham.  Your  grace  ? 

Wol.  Tray,  tell  'em  thus  much  from  me : 

There  should  be  one  amongst  'em,  by  his  person, 

More  worthy  this  place  than  myself ;  to  whom, 

If  I  but  knew  him,  with  my  love  and  duty  80 

I  would  surrender  it. 
Cham.  I  will,  my  lord.      [Whispers  the  Masquers. 

Wol.  What  say  they  ? 
Cham.  Such  a  one,  they  all  confess, 

There  is  indeed ;   which  they  would  have  your  grace 

Find  out,  and  he  will  take  it. 
Wol.  Let  me  see  then. 

By  all  your  good  leaves,  gentlemen  ;  here  I  '11  make 

My  royal  choice. 
King.  [Unmasking^^   Ye  have  found  him,  cardinal : 

You  hold  a  fair  assembly ;   you  do  well,  lord : 

You  are  a  churchman,  or,  I  '11  tell  you,  cardinal, 

I  should  judge  now  unhappily. 
Wol.  I  am  glad 

Your  grace  is  grown  so  pleasant. 
King.  My  lord  chamberlain,     90 

Prithee,  come  hither  :  what  fair  lady  's  that  ? 
Cham.  An 't   please   your   grace,    Sir   Thomas    Bullen's 
daughter, 

The  Viscount  Rochford,  one  of  her  highness'  women. 

54 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENPvY  VIII.  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

King.  By  heaven,  she  is  a  dainty  one.     Sweetheart, 

I  were  unmannerly,  to  take  you  out, 

And  not  to  kiss  yon.    A  heahh,  gentlemen  ! 

Let  it  go  round. 
Wol.  Sir  Thomas  Lovell,  is  the  hanquet  ready 

r  the  privy  chamher? 

Loz'.  Yes,  my  lord. 

Wol.  Your  grace, 

I  fear,  with  dancing  is  a  little  heated.  lOO 

King.  I  fear,  too  much. 

Wol.  There  's  fresher  air,  my  lord, 

In  the  next  chamber. 

King.  Lead  in  your  ladies,  every  one.    Sweet  partner, 
I  must  not  yet  forsake  you.    Let 's  be  merry, 
Good  my  lord  cardinal :  I  have  half  a  dozen  healths 
To  drink  to  these  fair  ladies,  and  a  measure 
To  lead  'em  once  again  ;  and  then  let  's  dream 
Who  's  best  in  favour.    Let  the  music  knock  it. 

[Exeunt  with  trumpets. 

ACT  SECOND. 
Scene  I. 

Westminster.    A  street. 

Enter  two  Gentlemen,  meeting. 

First  Gent.  Whither  away  so  fast? 

Sec.  Gent.  O,  God  save  ye ! 

Even  to  the  hall,  to  hear  what  shall  become 

Of  the  great  Duke  of  Buckingham. 
First  Gent.  I  '11  save  you 

That  laboiu-,  sir.    All  's  now  done,  but  the  ceremony 


Act  11.  Sc.  i.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Of  bringing  back  the  prisoner. 

Sec.  Gent.  Were  you  there  ? 

First  Gent.  Yes,  indeed  was  I. 

Sec.  Gent.  Pi"ay,  speak  what  has  happen'd. 

First  Gent.  You  may  guess  quickly  what. 

Sec.  Gent.  Is  he  found  guilty? 

First  Gent.  Yes,  truly  is  he,  and  condemn'd  upon  't. 

Sec.  Gent.   I  am  sorry  for  't. 

First  Gent.  So  are  a  number  more. 

Sec.  Gent.   But,  pray,  how  pass'd  it?  lo 

First  Gent.   I  '11  tell  you  in  a  little.    The  great  duke 
Came  to  the  bar ;  where  to  his  accusations 
He  pleaded  still  not  guilty,  and  alleged 
Many  sharp  reasons  to  defeat  the  law. 
The  king's  attorney  on  the  contrary 
Urged  on  the  examinations,  proofs,  confessions 
Of  divers  witnesses  ;  which  the  duke  desired 
To  have  brought  viva  voce  to  his  face  : 
At  which  appear'd  against  him  his  surveyor  ; 
Sir  Gilbert  Peck  his  chancellor  ;  and  John  Car,       20 
Confessor  to  him  ;   with  that  devil  monk, 
Hopkins,  that  made  this  mischief. 

Sec.  Gent.  That  was  he 

That  fed  him  with  his  prophecies? 

First  Gent.  The  same. 

All  these  accused  him  strongly  ;   which  he  fain 
\\'ould  have  flung  from  him,  but  indeed  he  could  not : 
And  so  his  peers  upon  this  evidence 
Have  found  him  guilty  of  high  treason.    Much 
He  spoke,  and  learnedly,  for  life,  but  all 
Was  either  pitied  in  him  or  forgotten. 

Sec.  Gent.  After  all  this,  how  did  he  bear  himself?         30 

56 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

First  Goif.  When  he  was  brought  again  to  the  bar,  to  hear 
His  knell  rung  out,  his  judgement,  he  was  stirr'd 
With  such  an  agony,  he  sweat  extremely. 
And  something  spoke  in  choler,  ill  and  hasty : 
But  he  fell  to  himself  again  and  sweetly 
In  all  the  rest  show'd  a  most  noble  patience. 

Sec.  Gent.  I  do  not  think  he  fears  death. 

First  Gent.  Sure,  he  does  not; 

He  never  was  so  womanish ;   the  cause 
He  may  a  little  grieve  at. 

Sec.  Gent.  Certainly 

The  cardinal  is  the  end  of  this. 

First  Gent.  'Tis  likely,  40 

By  all  conjectures  :  first,  Ivildare's  attainder, 
Then  deputy  of  Ireland;   who  removed. 
Earl  Surrey  was  sent  thither,  and  in  haste  too. 
Lest  he  should  help  his  father. 

Sec.  Gent.  That  trick  of  state 

Was  a  deep  envious  one. 

First  Gent.  At  his  return 

No  doubt  he  will  requite  it.     This  is  noted, 
And  generally,  whoever  the  king  favours, 
The  cardinal  instantly  will  find  employment. 
And  far  enough  from  court  too. 

Sec.  Gent.  All  the  commons 

Hate  him  perniciously,  and,  o'  my  conscience,       50 
Wish  him  ten  fathom  deep:   this  duke  as  much 
They  love  and  dote  on;    call  him  bounteous  Buck- 
ingham, 
The  mirror  of  all  courtesy — 

First  Gent.  Stay  there,  sir. 

And  see  the  noble  ruin'd  man  you  speak  of. 

57 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Enter  BiickiugJwni  from  his  arraignment,  tipstares  before 

him,  the  axe  -with  the  edge  tozvards  him,  halberds  on 

each  side,  accompanied  zvith  Sir  Thomas  Lovell,  Sir 

Nichohis   Vaux,   Sir   William   Sands,   and   common 

.  people,  &c. 

Sec.  Gent.  Let 's  stand  close,  and  behold  him. 
Buck.  All  good  people, 

You  that  thus  far  have  come  to  pity  me. 
Hear  what  I  say,  and  then  go  home  and  lose  me. 
I  have  this  day  received  a  traitor's  judgement, 
And  by  that  name  must  die :  yet,  heaven  bear  witness, 
And  if  I  have  a  conscience,  let  it  sink  me,  60 

Even  as  the  axe  falls,  if  I  be  not  faithful! 
The  law  I  bear  no  malice  for  my  death ; 
'T  has  done  upon  the  premises  but  justice: 
But  those  that  sought  it  I  could  wish  more  Christians : 
Be  w^hat  they  will,  I  heartily  forgive  'em : 
Yet  let  'em  look  they  glory  not  in  mischief, 
Nor  build  their  evils  on  the  graves  of  great  men; 
For  then  my  guiltless  blood  must  cry  against  'em. 
For  further  life  in  this  world  I  ne'er  hope. 
Nor  will  I  sue,  although  the  king  have  mercies       70 
More  than  I  dare  make  faults.  You  few  that  loved  me 
And  dare  be  bold  to  weep  for  Buckingham, 
His  noble  friends  and  fellows,  whom  to  leave 
Is  only  bitter  to  him,  only  dying. 
Go  with  me,  like  good  angels,  to  my  end. 
And,  as  the  long  divorce  of  steel  falls  on  me. 
Make  of  your  prayers  one  sweet  sacrifice 
And  lift  my  soul  to  heaven.  Lead  on,  o'  God's  name. 
Lov.  I  do  beseech  your  grace,  for  charity, 

58  .  .    - 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

If  ever  any  malice  in  your  heart  8o 

Were  hid  against  me,  now  to  forgive  me  frankly. 

Buck.  Sir  Thomas  Lovell,  I  as  free  forgive  you 
As  I  would  be  forgiven:    I  forgive  all; 
There  cannot  be  those  numberless  offences 
'Gainst  me,  that  I  cannot  take  peace  with :  no  black 

envy 
Shall  mark  my  grave.     Commend  me  to  his  grace, 
And  if  he  speak  of  Buckingham,  pray  tell  him 
You  met  him  half  in  heaven:  my  vows  and  prayers 
Yet  are  the  king's,  and,  till  my  soul  forsake, 
Shall  cry  for  blessings  on  him :   may  he  live  90 

Longer  than  I  have  time  to  tell  his  years! 
Ever  beloved  and  loving  may  his  rule  be! 
And  when  old  time  shall  lead  him  to  his  end, 
Goodness  and  he  fill  up  one  monument ! 

Lov.  To  the  water  side  I  must  conduct  your  grace; 
Then  give  my  charge  up  to  Sir  Nicholas  Vaux, 
Who  undertakes  you  to  your  end. 

Vaux.  Prepare  there; 

The  duke  is  coming :   see  the  barge  be  ready, 
And  fit  it  with  such  furniture  as  suits 
The  greatness  of  his  person. 

Buck.  Nay,  Sir  Nicholas,       100 

Let  it  alone;   my  state  now  will  but  mock  me. 
When  I  came  hither,  I  was  lord  high  constable 
And    Duke    of    Buckingham;     now,    poor    Edward 

Bohun: 
Yet  I  am  richer  than  my  base  accusers, 
That  never  knew  what  truth  meant:    I  now  seal  it; 
And  with  that  blood  will  make  'em  one  day  groan 
for  't. 

59 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

My  noble  father,  Henry  of  Buckingham, 
Who  first  raised  head  against  usurping  Richard, 
Flying  for  succour  to  his  servant  Banister, 
Being  distress'd,  was  by  that  wretch  betray'd,     no 
And  without  trial  fell;   God's  peace  be  with  him! 
Henry  the  Seventh  succeeding,  truly  pitying 
My  father's  loss,  like  a  most  royal  prince, 
Restored  me  to  my  honours,  and  out  of  ruins 
Made  my  name  once  more  noble.     Now  his  son, 
Henry  the  Eighth,  life,  honour,  name  and  all 
That  made  me  happy,  at  one  stroke  has  taken 
For  ever  from  the  world.     I  had  my  trial. 
And  must  needs  say,  a  noble  one;   which  makes  me 
A  little  happier  than  my  wretched  father:  120 

Yet  thus  far  we  are  one  in  fortunes:    both 
Fell  by  our  servants,  by  those  men  we  loved  most; 
A  most  unnatural  and  faithless  service! 
Heaven  has  an  end  in  all:   yet,  you  that  hear  me. 
This  from  a  dying  man  receive  as  certain: 
Where  you  are  liberal  of  your  loves  and  counsels 
Be  sure  you  be  not  loose  ;  for  those  you  make  friends 
And  give  your  hearts  to,  when  they  once  perceive 
The  least  rub  in  your  fortunes,  fall  away 
Like  water  from  ye,  never  found  again  130 

But  where  they  mean  to  sink  ye.     All  good  people. 
Pray  for  me!    I  must  now  forsake  ye:  the  last  hour 
Of  my  long  weary  life  is  come  upon  me. 
Farewell : 

And  when  you  would  say  something  that  is  sad. 
Speak  how  I  fell.     I  have  done;    and  God  forgive 
me!  [Exeimt  Duke  and  train. 

First  Gent.  O,  this  is  full  of  pity!     Sir,  it  calls, 

■    60 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  II.  Sc.  i. 

I  fear,  too  many  curses  on  their  heads 
That  were  the  authors. 

Sec.  Gent.  If  the  duke  be  guiltless, 

Tis  full  of  woe :  yet  I  can  give  you  inkling  140 

Of  an  ensuing  evil,  if  it  fall, 
Greater  than  this. 

First  Gent.  Good  angels  keep  it  from  us! 

What  may  it  be?    You  do  not  doubt  my  faith,  sir? 

Sec.  Gent.  This  secret  is  so  weighty,  'twill  require 
A  strong  faith  to  conceal  it. 

First  Gent.  Let  me  have  it; 

I  do  not  talk  much. 

Sec.  Gent.  I  am  confident; 

You  shall,  sir:   did  you  not  of  late  days  hear 
A  buzzing  of  a  separation 
Between  the  king  and  Katharine? 

First  Gent.  Yes,  but  it  held  not : 

For  when  the  king  once  heard  it,  out  of  anger       150 
He  sent  command  to  the  lord  mayor  straight 
To  stop  the  rumour  and  allay  those  tongues 
That  durst  disperse  it. 

Sec.  Gent.  But  that  slander,  sir, 

Is  found  a  truth  now:  for  it  grows  again 
Fresher  than  e'er  it  was,  and  held  for  certain 
The  king  will  venture  at  it.     Either  the  cardinal, 
Or  some  about  him  near,  have,  out  of  malice 
To  the  good  queen,  possess'd  him  with  a  scruple 
That  will  undo  her:  to  confirm  this  too, 
Cardinal  Campeius  is  arrived,  and  lately;  160 

As  all  think,  for  this  business. 

First  Gent.  Tis  the  cardinal; 

And  merely  to  revenge  him  on  the  emperor, 
61 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.         FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

For  not  bestowing  on  him  at  his  asking 

The  archbishopric  of  Toledo,  this  is  purposed. 
Sec.  Gent.  I  think  you  have  hit  the  mark :    but  is  't  not 
cruel 

That  she  should  feel  the  smart  of  this?    The  cardinal 

Will  have  his  will,  and  she  must  fall. 
First  Gent.  'Tis  woeful. 

We  are  too  open  here  to  argue  this ; 

Let 's  think  in  private  more.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II. 

An  ante-chmnher  in  the  palace. 
Enter  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  reading  a  letter. 

Cham.  '  My  lord,  the  horses  your  lordship  sent  for, 
with  all  the  care  I  had,  I  saw  well  chosen,  ridden, 
and  furnished.  They  were  young  and  hand- 
some, and  of  the  best  breed  in  the  north.  When 
they  were  ready  to  set  out  for  London,  a  man  of 
my  lord  cardinal's,  by  commission  and  main 
power,  took  'em  from  me;  with  this  reason: 
His  master  would  be  served  before  a  subject,  if 
not  before  the  king ;  which  stopped  our  mouths,  sir/ 
I  fear  he  will  indeed:  well,  let  him  have  them:  lo 
He  will  have  all,  I  think. 

Enter  to  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  the  Dukes  of  Norfolk 
and  Suffolk. 

Nor.  Well  met,  my  lord  chamberlain. 
Cham.  Good  day  to  both  your  graces. 
Snf.  How  is  the  king  employ'd? 
Cham.  I  left  him  private, 

62 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  II.  Sc.  ii. 

Full  of  sad  thoughts  and  troubles. 

Nor.  What 's  the  cause? 

Cham.  It  seems  the  marriage  with  his  brother's  wife 
Has  crept  too  near  his  conscience. 

Suf.  No,  his  conscience 

Has  crept  too  near  another  lady. 

Nor.  'Tis  so : 

This  is  the  cardinal's  doing,  the  king-cardinal:       20 
That  blind  priest,  like  the  eldest  son  of  fortune. 
Turns  what  he  list.     The  king  will  kncytv  him  one 
day. 

Suf.  Pray  God  he  do !  he  '11  never  know  himself  else. 

Nor.  How  holily  he  works  in  all  his  business! 

And  with  what  zeal!    for,  now  he  has  crack'd  the 

league 
Between  us  and  the  emperor,  thequeen's  greatnephew, 
He  dives  into  the  king's  soul,  and  there  scatters 
Dangers,  doubts,  wringing  of  the  conscience, 
Fears  and  despairs;   and  all  these  for  his  marriage: 
And  out  of  all  these  to  restore  the  king,  30 

He  counsels  a  divorce;   a  loss  of  her 
That,  like  a  jewel,  has  hung  twenty  years 
About  his  neck,  yet  never  lost  her  lustre. 
Of  her  that  loves  him  with  that  excellence 
That  angels  love  good  men  with,  even  of  her 
That,  when  the  greatest  stroke  of  fortune  falls. 
Will  bless  the  king:  and  is  not  this  course  pious? 

Cham.  Heaven  keep  me  from  such  counsel !    'Tis  most  true 
These  news  are  every  where;    every  tongue  speaks 

'em, 
And  every  true  heart  weeps  for  't:   all  that  dare     40 
Look  into  these  affairs  see  this  main  end, 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.         FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

The  French  king's  sister.    Heaven  will  one  day  open 
The  king's  eyes,  that  so  long  have  slept  upon 
This  bold  bad  man. 

Suf.  And  free  us  from  his  slavery. 

Nor.  \\&  had  need  pray, 

And  heartily,  for  our  deliverance; 
Or  this  imperious  man  will  work  us  all 
From  princes  into  pages:   all  men's  honours 
Lie  like  one  lump  before  him,  to  be  fashion'd 
Into  wh^  pitch  he  please. 

Suf.  For  me,  my  lords,  50 

I  love  him  not,  nor  fear  him ;  there  's  my  creed : 
As  I  am  made  without  him,  so  I  '11  stand, 
If  the  king  please;   his  curses  and  his  blessings 
Touch  me  alike;  they  're  breath  I  not  believe  in. 
I  knew  him,  and  I  know  him;   so  I  leave  him 
To  him  that  made  him  proud,  the  pope. 

Nor.  Let 's  in; 

And  with  some  other  business  put  the  king 
From  these  sad  thoughts  that  work  too  much  upon 

him: 
My  lord,  you'll  bear  us  company? 

Cham.  Excuse  me; 

The  king  has  sent  me  otherwise:   besides,  60 

You  '11  find  a  most  unfit  time  to  disturb  him: 
Health  to  your  lordships. 

Nor.  Thanks,  my  good  lord  chamberlain. 

[Exit  Lord  Chamberlain;  and  the  King  drazcs 

the  curtain  and  sits  reading  pensively > 

Suf.  How  sad  he  looks!   sure,  he  is  much  afflicted. 

King.  Who  's  there,  ha? 

Nor.  Pray  God  he  be  not  angry. 

64 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.         Act  II.  Sc.  ii. 

King.  Who  's  there,  I  say  ?  How  dare  you  thrust  yourselves 

Into  my  private  meditations  ? 

Who  am  I?   ha? 
Nor.  A  gracious  king  that  pardons  all  offences 

Malice  ne'er  meant :  our  breach  of  duty  this  way 

Is  business  of  estate,  in  which  we  come  70 

To  know  your  royal  pleasure. 
King.  Ye  are  too  bold  : 

Go  to  ;   I  '11  make  ye  know  your  times  of  business : 

Is  this  an  hour  for  temporal  affairs,  ha  ? 

Enter  Wolsey  and  Campeius,  zvith  a  commission. 

Wlio  's  there  ?  my  good  lord  cardinal  ?  O  my  Wolsey, 

The  quiet  of  my  wounded  conscience, 

Thou  art  a  cure  fit  for  a  king.      [To  Camp.]     You  're 
welcome. 

Most  learned  reverend  sir,  into  our  kingdom : 

Use  us  and  it.      [To   Wols.'\     My  good  lord,  have 
great  care 

I  be  not  found  a  talker. 
Wol.  Sir,  you  cannot. 

I  would  vour  grace  would  give  us  but  an  hour       80 

Of  private  conference. 
King.  [To  Xor.  and  Suf.]  We  are  busy;   go. 

Nor.    [Aside  fo  Suf.]   This  priest  has  no  pride  in  him ? 
Suf.  [Aside  fo  Nov.]   Not  to  speak  of: 

I  would  not  be  so  sick  though  for  his  place : 

But  this  cannot  continue. 
Nor.  [Aside  fo  Suf .]   If  it  do, 

I  '11  venture  one  have-at-him. 
Suf.  [Aside  to  Nor.]     I  another. 

[Exeunt  Norfolk  and  Suffolk. 

65 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.         FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

WoL  Your  grace  has  given  a  precedent  of  wisdom 
Above  all  princes,  in  committing  freely 
Your  scruple  to  the  voice  of  Christendom : 
Who  can  be  angry  now  ?  what  envy  reach  you  ? 
The  Spaniard,  tied  by  blood  and  favour  to  her,      90 
Must  now  confess,  if  they  have  any  goodness. 
The  trial  just  and  noble.     All  the  clerks, 
I  mean  the  learned  ones,  in  Christian  kingdoms 
Have  their  free  voices:    Rome,  the  nurse  of  judge- 
ment. 
Invited  by  your  noble  self,  hath  sent 
One  general  tongue  unto  us,  this  good  man, 
This  just  and  learned  priest.  Cardinal  Campeius  ; 
Whom  once  more  I  present  unto  your  highness. 

King.  And  once  more  in  mine  arms  I  bid  him  welcome, 
And  thank  the  holy  conclave  for  their  loves :         100 
'fhev  have  sent  me  such  a  man  I  would  have  wish'd 
'for. 

Cam.  Your  grace  must  needs  deserve  all  strangers'  loves. 
You  are  so  noble.     To  your  highness'  hand 
I  tender  my  commission  ;  by  whose  virtue. 
The  court  of  Rome  co*nmanding,  you,  my  lord 
Cardinal  of  York,  are  join'd  with  me  their  servant 
In  the  unpartial  judging  of  this  business. 

Kmg.  Two  equal  men.     The  queen  shall  be  acquainted 
Forthwith  for  what  you  come.     Where  's  Gardiner  ? 

Wol.  I  know  your  majesty  has  always  loved  her  no 

So  dear  in  heart,  not  to  deny  her  that 
A  woman  of  less  place  might  ask  by  law. 
Scholars  allow'd  freely  to  argue  for  her. 

King.  Ay,  and  the  best  she  shall  have ;  and  my  favour 
To  him  that  does  best :  God  forbid  else.     Cardinal, 
66 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.         Act  II.  Sc.  ii. 

Prithee,  call  Gardiner  to  me,  my  new  secretary : 

I  find  him  a  fit  fellow.  [Exit  Wolsey, 

Re-enter  Wolsey,  unth  Gardiner. 

Wol.    [Aside  to  Gard.\    Give  me  your  hand:    much  joy 
and  favour  to  you : 
You  are  the  king's  now. 

Card.  [Aside  to  Wol.]   But  to  be  commanded         119 

For  ever  by  your  grace,  whose  hand  has  raised  me. 

King.  Come  hither,  Gardiner.  [JValks  and  zvhispers. 

Cam.  My  Lord  of  York,  was  not  one  Doctor  Pace 
In  this  man's  place  before  him? 

Wol.  Yes,  he  was. 

Cam.  Was  he  not  held  a  learned  man? 

Wol.  Yes,  surely. 

Cam.  Believe  me,  there  's  an  ill  opinion  spread  then, 
Even  of  yourself,  lord  cardinal.  * 

Wol.  Kow  !    of  me  ? 

Cam.  They  will  not  stick  to  say  you  envied  him. 

And  fearing  he  would  rise,  he  was  so  virtuous. 
Kept  him  a  foreign  man  ^till ;   which  so  grieved  him 
That  he  ran  mad  and  died. 

Wol.  Heaven's  peace  be  with  him!  130 

That 's  Christian  care  enough  :   for  living  murmurers 
There  's  places  of  rebuke.     He  was  a  fool ; 
For  he  would  needs  be  virtuous  :  that  good  fellow. 
If  I  command  him,  follows  my  appointment : 
I  will  have  none  so  near  else.     Learn  this,  brother, 
We  live  not  to  be  griped  by  meaner  persons. 

King.  Deliver  this  with  modesty  to  the  queen. 

[Exit  Gardiner, 
The  most  convenient  place  that  I  can  think  of 

67 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

For  such  receipt  of  learning  is  Black-Friars ; 

There  ye  shall  meet  about  this  weighty  business.  140 

My  Wolsey,  see  it  furnish'd.     O,  my  lord, 

Would  it  not  grieve  an  able  man  to  leave 

So  sweet  a  bedfellow  ?     But,  conscience,  conscience ! 

O,  'tis  a  tender  place ;   and  I  must  leave  her. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

An  ante-chamber  of  the  Queen's  apartments. 
Enter  Anne  BuUen  and  an  old  Lady. 

Anne.   Not  for  that  neither :  here  's  the  pang  that  pinches. 
His  highness  having  lived  so  long  with  her,  and  she 
So  good  a  lady  that  no  tongue  could  ever 
Pronounce  dishonour  of  her — by  my  life. 
She  never  knew  harm-doing — O,  now,  after 
So  tnany  courses  of  the  sun  enthroned. 
Still  growing  in  a  majesty  and  pomp,  the  which 
To  leave  a  thousand-fold  more  bitter  than 
'Tis  sweet  at  first  to  acquire — after  this  process, 
To  give  her  the  avaunt !   it  is  a  pity  10 

Would  move  a  monster.* 

Old  L.  Hearts  of  most  hard  temper 

]\lelt  and  lament  for  her. 

Anne.  O,  God's  will !   much  better 

She  ne'er  had  known  pomp :  though  't  be  temporal. 
Yet,  if  that  quarrel,  fortune,  do  divorce 
It  from  the  bearer,  'tis  a  sufferance  panging 
As  soul  and  body's  severing. 

Old  L.  Alas,  poor  lady ! 

She  's  a  stranger  now  again. 

Anne.  So  much  the  more 

68 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

Must  pity  drop  upon  her.    Verily, 
I  swear,  'tis  better  to  be  lowly  born, 
And  range  with  humble  livers  in  content,  20 

Than  to  be  perk'd  up  in  a  glistering-  grief 
And  wear  a  golden  sorrow. 
Old  L,  Our  content 

Is  our  best  having. 
Anne.  By  my  troth  and  maidenhead, 

I  would  not  be  a  queen. 
Old  L.  Beshrew  me,  I  would, 

And  venture  maidenhead  for  't ;  and  so  would  you, 
For  all  this  spice  of  your  hypocrisy: 
You,  that  have  so  fair  parts  of  woman  on  you. 
Have  too  a  woman's  heart;   which  ever  yet 
Afifected  eminence,  wealth,  sovereignty ; 
Which,  to  say  sooth,  are  blessings  ;  and  which  gifts — 
Saving  your  mincing — the  capacity  ^  31 

Of  your  soft  cheveril  conscience  would  receive, 
If  you  might  please  to  stretch  it. 
Anne.  Nay,  good  troth. 

Old  L.  Yes,  troth,  and  troth;  you  would  not  be  a  queen? 
Anne.  No,  not  for  all  the  I'iches  under  heaven. 
Old  L.  'Tis  strange:  a  three-pence  bow'd  would  hire  me. 
Old  as  I  am,  to  queen  it:   but,  I  pray  you, 
Wliat  think  you  of  a  duchess  ?  have  you  limbs 
To  bear  that  load  of  title? 
Anne.  No,  in  truth. 

Old  L.  Then  you  are  weakly  made:   pluck  off  a  little;  40 
I  would  not  be  a  young  count  in  your  way, 
For  more  than  blushing  comes  to:   if  your  back 
Cannot  vouchsafe  this  burthen,  'tis  too  weak 
Ever  to  get  a  boy. 

69 


Act  11.  Sc.  Hi.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Anne.  How  you  do  talk! 

I  swear  again,  I  would  not  be  a  queen 
For  all  the  world. 

Old  L.  In  faith,  for  little  England 

You 'Id  venture  an  emballing:    I  myself 
Would  for  Carnarvonshire,  although  there  'long'd 
No  more  to  the  crown  but  that.     Lo,  who  comes  here  ? 

Enter  the  Lord  Chamberlain. 

Cham.  Good  morrow,  ladies.    What  were  't  worth  to  know 
The  secret  of  your  conference? 

Anne.  My  good  lord,     51 

Not  your  demand;  it  values  not  your  asking: 
Our  mistress'  sorrows  we  were  pitying. 

Cham.  It  was  a  gentle  business,  and  becoming 
The  action  of  good  women:  there  is  hope 
All  will  be  well. 

Anne.  Now,  I  pray  God,  amen! 

Cham.  You  bear  a  gentle  mind,  and  heavenly  blessings 
Follow  such  creatures.     That  you  may,  fair  lady, 
Perceive  I  speak  sincerely,  and  high  note  's 
Ta'en  of  your  many  virtues,  the  king's  majesty      60 
Commends  his  good  opinion  of  you,  and 
Does  purpose  honour  to  you  no  less  flowing 
Than  Marchioness  of  Pembroke;   to  which  title 
A  thousand  pound  a  year,  annual  support. 
Out  of  his  grace  he  adds, 

Anne.  I  do  not  know 

What  kind  of  my  obedience  I  should  tender; 
More  than  my  all  is  nothing:   nor  my  prayers 
Are  not  words  duly  hallowed,  nor  my  wishes 
More  worth  than  empty  vanities  ;  yet  prayers  and  wishes 

70 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 

Are  all  I  can  return.     Beseech  your  lordship,  70 

Vouchsafe  to  speak  my  thanks  and  my  obedience, 
As  from  a  blushing  handmaid,  to  his  highness, 
Whose  health  and  royalty  I  pray  for. 

Cham.  Lady, 

I  shall  not  fail  to  approve  the  fair  conceit 
The  king  hath  of  you.      [Aside]   I  have  perused  her 

well; 
Beauty  and  honour  in  her  are  so  mingled 
That  they  have  caught  the  king :  and  who  knows  yet 
But  from  this  lady  may  proceed  a  gem 
To  lighten  all  this  isle  ? — I  '11  to  the  king, 
And  say  I  spoke  with  you. 

Anne.  My  honour'd  lord.  8o 

[Exit  Lord  Chamberlain. 

Old  L.  Why,  this  it  is;   see,  see! 

I  have  been  begging  sixteen  years  in  court. 

Am  yet  a  courtier  beggarly,  nor  could 

Come  pat  betwixt  too  early  and  too  late 

For  any  suit  of  pounds  ;  and  you,  O  fate  ! 

A  very  fresh  fish  here — fie,  fie,  fie  upon 

This  compell'd  fortune! — have  your  mouth  fiU'd  up 

Before  you  open  it. 

Anne.  This  is  strange  to  me. 

OldL.  How  tastes  it?  is  it  bitter?   forty  pence,  no. 

There  was  a  lady  once,  'tis  an  old  story,  90 

That  would  not  be  a  queen,  that  would  she  not, 
For  all  the  mud  in  Egypt :   have  you  heard  it  ? 

Anne.  Come,  you  are  pleasant. 

Old  L.  With  your  theme,  I  could 

O'ermount  the  lark.     The  Marchioness  of  Pembroke ! 
A  thousand  pounds  a  year  for  pure  respect ! 

71 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

No  other  obligation !     By  my  life, 
That  promises  mo  thousands  :  honour's  train 
Is  longer  than  his  foreskirt.     By  this  time 
I  know  your  back  will  bear  a  duchess :   say, 
Are  you  not  stronger  than  you  were  ? 

Aline.  .  Good  lady,   loo 

Make  yourself  mirth  with  your  particular  fancy. 
And  leave  me  out  on  't.     Would  I  had  no  being, 
If  this  salute  my  blood  a  jot :   it  faints  me. 
To  think  what  follows. 
The  queen  is  comfortless,  and  we  forgetful 
In  our  long  absence :   pray,  do  not  deliver 
What  here  you  Ve  heard  to  her. 

Oldh.  What  do  you  think  me? 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  IV. 

A  hall  in  Black-Friars. 

Trumpets,  sennet  and  cornets.  Enter  tivo  Vergers,  with 
short  silver  zvands;  next  thcni,  tzco  Scribes,  in  the 
habit  of  doctors;  after  them,  the  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury alone;  after  him,  the  Bishops  of  Lincoln,  Ely, 
Rochester,  and  Saint  Asaph;  next  them,  zvith  some 
small  distance,  follows  a  Gentleman  bearing  the 
purse,  zvith  the  great  seal,  and  a  cardinal's  hat;  then 
two  Priests,  bearing  each  a  silver  cross;  then  a  Gen- 
tleman Usher  bare-headed,  accompanied  zvith  a  Ser- 
geant at  arms  bearing  a  silver  mace;  then  tzvo  Gen- 
tlemen bearing  tzvo  great  silver  pillars;  after  them, 
side  by  side,  the  tzvo  Cardinals ;  tzvo  Noblemen  zvith 
the  szvord  and  mace.  The  King  takes  place  under 
the  cloth  of  state;  the  tzvo  Cardinals  sit  under  him  as 
judges.     The  Queen  takes  place  some  distance  from 

72 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

the  King.  The  Bishops  place  tJieinselves  on  each  side 
the  court,  in  manner  of  a  consistory;  belozv  them, 
the  Scribes.  The  Lords  sit  next  the  Bishops.  The 
rest  of  the  Attendants  stand  in  convenient  order  about 
the  stage. 

Wol.  Whilst  our  commission  from  Rome  is  read, 
Let  silence  be  commanded. 

King.  What 's  the  need  ? 

It  hath  already  publicly  been  read, 
And  on  all  sides  the  authority  allow'd ; 
You  may  then  spare  that  time. 

Wol,  Be 't  so.     Proceed. 

Scribe.  Say,    Henry   King   of    England,    come    into   the 
court. 

Crier.  Henry  King  of  England,  &c. 

King.  Here. 

Scribe.  Say,  Katharine  Queen  of  England,  come  into     lo 
the  court. 

Crier.  Katharine  Queen  of  England,  &c. 

[The  Queen  makes  no  ansiver,  rises  out  of  her  chair, 
goes  about  the  court,  comes  to  the  King,  and 
kneels  at  his  feet;  then  speaks. 

0.  Kath.  Sir,  I  desire  you  do  me  right  and  justice, 
And  to  bestow  your  pity  on  me ;   for 
I  am  a  most  poor  woman,  and  a  stranger, 
Born  out  of  your  dominions  ;   having  here 
No  judge  indifferent,  nor  no  more  assurance 
Of  equal  friendship  and  proceeding.     Alas,  sir, 
In  what  have  I  ofifended  you?   what  cause 
Hath  my  behaviour  given  to  your  displeasure,         20 
That  thus  you  should  proceed  to  put  me  off. 
And  take  your  good  grace  from  me  ?   Heaven  witness, 

7:^ 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv,         FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

I  have  been  to  you  a  true  and  humble  wife, 

At  all  times  to  your  will  conformable, 

Ever  in  fear  to  kindle  your  dislike. 

Yea,  subject  to  your  countenance,  glad  or  sorry 

As  I  saw  it  inclined :   when  was  the  hour 

I  ever  contradicted  your  desire. 

Or  made  it  not  mine  too?     Or  which  of  your  friends 

Have  I  not  strove  to  love,  although  I  knew  30 

He  were  mine  enemy?   what  friend  of  mine 

That  had  to  him  derived  your  anger,  did  I 

Continue  in  my  liking?  nay,  gave  notice 

He  was  from  thence  discharged  ?     Sir,  call  to  mind 

That  I  have  been  your  wife,  in  this  obedience, 

Upward  of  twenty  years,  and  have  been  blest 

With  many  children  by  you :   if  in  the  course 

And  process  of  this  time  you  can  report, 

And  prove  it  too,  against  mine  honour  aught, 

My  bond  to  wedlock  or  my  love  and  duty,  40 

Against  your  sacred  person,  in  God's  name, 

Turn  me  away,  and  let  the  foul'st  contempt 

Shut  door  upon  me,  and  so  give  me  up 

To  the  sharp'st  kind  of  justice.     Please  you,  sir, 

The  king,  your  father,  was  reputed  for 

A  prince  most  prudent,  of  an  excellent 

And  unmatch'4  wit  and  judgement :    Ferdinand, 

My  father,  king  of  Spain,  was  reckoned  one 

The  wisest  prince  that  there  had  reign'd  by  many 

A  year  before :   it  is  not  to  be  question'd  50 

That  they  had  gather'd  a  wise  council  to  them 

Of  every  realm,  that  did  debate  this  business. 

Who  deem'd  our  marriage  lawful :  wherefore  I  humbly 

Beseech  you,  sir,  to  spare  me,  till  I  may     . 

74 


LIFE  or  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

Be  my  friends  in  Spain  advised,  whose  counsel 
I  will  implore:   if  not,  i' the  name  of  God, 
Your  pleasure  be  fulfiU'd! 

Wol.  You  have  here,  lady, 

And  of  your  choice,  these  reverend  fathers;   men 
Of  singular  integrity  and  learning, 
Yea,  the  elect  o'  the  land,  who  are  assembled  60 

To  plead  your  cause:   it  shall  be  therefore  bootless 
That  longer  you  desire  the  court,  as  well 
For  your  own  quiet,  as  to  rectify 
What  is  unsettled  in  the  king. 

Cam.  His  grace 

Hath  spoken  well  and  justly:   therefore,  madam, 
It 's  fit  this  royal  session  do  proceed, 
And  that  without  delay  their  arguments 
Be  now  produced  and  heard. 

Q.  Kath.  Lord   cardinal, 

To  you  I  speak. 

Wol.  Your  pleasure,  madam? 

Q.  Kath.  Sir, 

I  am  about  to  weep;  but,  thinking  that  70 

We  are  a  queen,  or  long  have  dream'd  so,  certain 
The  daughter  of  a  king,  my  drops  of  tears 
I  '11  turn  to  sparks  of  fire. 

Wol.  Be  patient  yet. 

Q.  Kath.  I  will,  when  you  are  humble;  nay,  before, 
Or  God  will  punish  me.     I  do  believe. 
Induced  by  potent  circumstances,  that 
You  are  mine  enemy,  and  make  my  challenge 
You  shall  not  be  my  judge:   for  it  is  you 
Have  blown  this  coal  betwixt  my  lord  and  me; 
Which  God's  dew  quench!     Therefore  I  say  again, 

75 


Act  11.  Sc.  iv.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

I  utterly  abhor,  yea,  from  my  soul  8i 

Refuse  you  for  my  judge;   whom,  yet  once  more, 
I  hold  my  most  malicious  foe,  and  think  not 
At  all  a  friend  to  truth. 

JVol.  I  do  profess 

You  speak  not  like  yourself;    who  ever  vet 
Have  stood  to  charity  and  display 'd  the  effects 
Of  disposition  gentle,  and  of  wisdom 
O'ertopping  woman's  power.     Madam,  you  do  me 

wrong: 
I  have  no  spleen  against  you,  nor  injustice 
For  you  or  any :   how  far  I  have  proceeded,  90 

Or  how  far  further  shall,  is  w^arranted 
By  a  commission  from  the  consistory. 
Yea,  the  whole  consistory  of  Rome.     You  charge  me 
That  I  have  blown  this  coal :   I  do  deny  it : 
The  king  is  present:  if  it  be  known  to  him 
That  I  gainsay  my  deed,  how  may  he  wound, 
And  worthily,  my  falsehood!   yea,  as  much 
As  you  have  done  my  truth.     If  he  know 
That  I  am  fr^e  of  your  report,  he  knows 
I  am  not  of  your  wrong.     Therefore  in  him  100 

It  lies  to  cure  me;   and  the  cure  is  to 
Remove  these  thoughts  from  you :  the  which  before 
His  highness  shall  speak  in,  I  do  beseech 
You,  gracious  madam,  to  unthink  your  speaking, 
And  to  say  so  no  more. 

Q.  Kath.  My  lord,  my  lord, 

I  arn  a  simple  w^oman,  much  too  weak 
To  oppose  your  cunning.     You  're  meek  and  humble- 
mouth 'd  ; 
You  sign  your  place  and  calling,  in  full  seeming, 

76 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

With  meekness  and  humility;  but  your  heart 

Is  cramm'd  with  arrogancy,  spleen,  and  pride,  no 

You  have,  by  fortune  and  his  highness'  favours, 

Gone  slightly  o'er  low  steps,  and  now  are  mounted 

Where  powers  are  your  retainers,  and  your  words, 

Domestics  to  you,  serve  your  will  as  't  please 

Yourself  pronounce  their  office.     I  must  tell  you, 

You  tender  more  your  person's  honour  than 

Your  high  profession  spiritual;   that  again 

I  do  refuse  you  for  my  judge,  and  here. 

Before  you  all,  appeal  unto  the  pope. 

To  bring  my  whole  cause  'fore  his  holiness,         120 

And  to  be  judged  by  him. 

[She  curtsies  to  the  King,  and  offers  to  depart. 

Cam.  The  queen  is  obstinate, 

Stubborn  to  justice,  apt  to  accuse  it,  and 
Disdainful  to  be  tried  by  't:    'tis  not  well. 
She  's  going  away. 

King.  Call  her  again. 

Crier.  Katharine  Queen  of  England,  come  into  the  court. 

Gent.  Ush.  Madam,  you  are  call'd  back. 

Q.  Kath.  What  need  you  note  it  ?  pray  you,  keep  your  way  : 
When  you  are  call'd,  return.  Now  the  Lord  help! 
They  vex  me  past  my  patience.  Pray  you,  pass  on: 
I  will  not  tarry,  no,  nor  ever  more  131 

Upon  this  business  my  appearance  make 
In  any  of  their  courts. 

[Exeunt  Queen,  and  her  Attendants. 

King.  Go  thy  ways,  Kate: 

That  man  i'  the  world  who  shall  report  he  has 
A  better  wife,  let  him  in  nought  be  trusted, 
For  speaking  false  in  that:   thou  art,  alone, 

77 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

If  thy  rare  qualities,  sweet  gentleness, 

Thy  meekness  saint-Hke,  wife-hke  government, 

Obeying  in  commanding,  and  thy  parts 

Sovereign  and  pious  else,  could  speak  thee  out,     140 

The  queen  of  earthly  queens.     She  's  noble  born, 

And  like  her  true  nobility  she  has 

Carried  herself  towards  me. 

Wol.  Most  gracious  sir. 

In  humblest  manner  I  require  your  highness. 
That  it  shall  please  you  to  declare  in  hearing 
Of  all  these  ears — for  where  I  am  robb'd  and  bound, 
There  must  I  be  unloosed,  although  not  there 
At  once  and  fully  satisfied — whether  ever  I 
Did  broach  this  business  to  your  highness,  or 
Laid  any  scruple  in  your  way  which  might  150 

Induce  you  to  the  question  on  't?  or  ever 
Have  to  you,  but  with  thanks  to  God  for  such 
A  royal  lady,  spake  one  the  least  word  that  might 
Be  to  the  prejudice  of  her  present  state 
Or  touch  of  her  good  person? 

King.  My  lord  cardinal, 

I  do  excuse  you;   yea,  upon  mine  honour, 
I  free  you  from  't.    You  are  not  to  be  taught 
That  you  have  many  enemies  that  know  not 
Why  they  are  so,  but,  like  to  village  curs, 
Bark  when  their  fellows  do:  by  some  of  these     160 
The  queen  is  put  in  anger.    You're  excused: 
But  will  you  be  more  justified?  you  ever 
Have  wish'd  the  sleeping  of  this  business,  never  desired 
It  to  be  stirr'd,  but  oft  have  hinder'd,  oft. 
The  passages  made  toward  it:  on  my  honour, 
I  speak  my  good  lord  cardinal  to  this  point, 

78 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  II.  Sc.  iv. 

And  thus  far  clear  him.     Now,  what  moved  me  to  't, 

I  will  be  bold  with  time  and  your  attention : 

Then  mark  the  inducement.     Thus  it  came;    give 

heed  to  't: 
My  conscience  first  received  a  tenderness,  170 

Scruple,  and  prick,  on  certain  speeches  utter'd 
By  the  Bishop  of  Bayonne,  then  French  ambassador ; 
Who  had  been  hither  sent  on  the  debating 
A  marriage  'twixt  the  Duke  of  Orleans  and 
Our  daughter  Mary:  i'  the  progress  of  this  business, 
Ere  a  determinate  resolution,  he, 
I  mean  the  bishop,  did  require  a  respite. 
Wherein  he  might  the  king  his  lord  advertise 
Whether  our  daughter  were  legitimate, 
Respecting  this  our  marriage  with  the  dowager,  180 
Sometimes  our  brother's  wife.     This  respite  shook 
The  bosom  of  my  conscience,  enter'd  me. 
Yea,  with  a  splitting  power,  and  made  to  tremble 
The  region  of  my  breast;   which  forced  such  way 
That  many  mazed  considerings  did  throng 
And  press'd  in  with  this  caution.     First,  methought 
I  stood  not  in  the  smile  of  heaven,  who  had 
Commanded  nature  that  my  lady's  womb, 
If  it  conceived  a  male-child  by  me,  should 
Do  no  more  oilEices  of  life  to  't  than  190 

The  grave  does  to  the  dead;   for  her  male  issue 
Or  died  where  they  were  made,  or  shortly  after 
This  world  had  air'd  them:  hence  I  took  a  thought, 
This  was  a  judgement  on  me,  that  my  kingdom, 
Well  worthy  the  best  heir  o'  the  world,  should  not 
Be  gladded  in 't  by  me:    then  follows  that 
I  weigh'd  the  danger  which  my  realms  stood  in 

79 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

By  this  my  issue's  fail;   and  that  gave  to  me 

Many  a  groaning  throe.     Thus  hulhng  in 

The  wild  sea  of  my  conscience,  I  did  steer  200 

Toward  this  remedy  whereupon  we  are 

Now  present  here  together;  that 's  to  say, 

I  meant  to  rectify  my  conscience,  which 

I  then  did  feel  full  sick  and  yet  not  well, 

By  all  the  reverend  fathers  of  the  land 

And  doctors  learn'd.     First  I  began  in  private 

With  you,  my  Lord  of  Lincoln;   you  remember 

How  under  my  oppression  I  did  reek, 

When  I  first  moved  you. 

Lin.  \"ery  well,  my  liege. 

King.  I  have  spoke  long:   be  pleased  yourself  to  say 
How  far  you  satisfied  me. 

Lin.  So  please  your  highness,       211 

The  question  did  at  first  so  stagger  me, 
Bearing  a  state  of  mighty  moment  in  't 
And  consequence  of  dread,  that  I  committed 
The  daring'st  counsel  which  I  had  to  doubt. 
And  did  entreat  your  highness  to  this  course 
Which  you  are  running  here. 

King.  I  then  moved  you, 

My  Lord  of  Canterbury,  and  got  your  leave 
To  make  this  present  summons  :  unsolicited 
I  left  no  reverend  person  in  this  court;  220 

But  by  particular  consent  proceeded 
Under  your  hands  and  seals:  therefore,  go  on; 
For  no  dislike  i'  the  world  against  the  person 
Of  the  good  queen,  but  the  sharp  thorny  points 
Of  my  alleged  reasons,  drive  this  forward: 
Prove  but  our  marriage  lawful,  by  my  life 
80 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.         Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

And  kingly  dignity,  we  are  contented 
To  wear  our  mortal  state  to  come  with  her, 
Katharine  our  queen,  before  the  primest  creature 
That  's  paragon'd  o'  the  world. 

Cam.  So  please  your  highness, 

The  queen  being  absent,  'tis  a  needful  fitness        231 
That  we  adjourn  this  court  till  further  day : 
Meanwhile  must  be  an  earnest  motion 
Made  to  the  queen,  to  call  back  her  appeal 
She  intends  unto  his  holiness. 

King.  [Aside^    I  may  perceive 

These  cardinals  trifle  with  me :    I  abhor 
This  dilatory  sloth  and  tricks  of  Rome. 
My  learn 'd  and  well-beloved  servant,  Cranmer, 
Prithee,  return  ;  with  thy  approach,  I  know, 
My  comfort  comes  along. — Break  up  the  court :     240 
I  say,  set  on.        [Exeunt  in  manner  as  they  entered. 

ACT  THIRD. 
Scene  I. 

London.     The  Queen's  apartments. 

The  Queen  and  her  Women,  as  at  zvork. 

Q.  Kath.  Take  thy  lute,  wench :   my  soul  grows  sad  with 
troubles ; 
Sing,  and  disperse  'em,  if  thou  canst :   leave  working. 

Song. 

Orpheus  with  his  lute  made  trees, 
And  the  mxountain  tops  that  freeze, 
Bow  themselves  when  he  did  sing: 
81 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.         FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

To  his  music  plants  and  flowers 
Ever  sprung,  as  sun  and  showers 
There  had  made  a  lasting  spring. 

Every  thing  that  heard  him  play, 

Even  the  billows  of  the  sea,  lo 

Hung  their  heads,  and  then  lay  by. 
In  sweet  music  is  such  art. 
Killing  care  and  grief  of  heart 

Fall  asleep,  or  hearing  die. 

Enter  a  Gentleman. 

Q.  KatJu  How^  now  ! 

Gent.  An  't  please  your  grace,  the  two  great  cardinals 

Wait  in  the  presence. 
Q.  Kath,  Would  they  speak  w^th  me  ? 

Gent.  They  will'd  me  say  so,  madam. 
Q.  Kath.  Pray  their  graces 

To  come  near.      [Exit  Gent.]      What  can  be  their 
business 

With  me,  a  poor  weak  woman,  fall'n  from  favour? 

I  do  not  like  their  coming.     Now  I  think  on  't,        21 

They  should  be  good  men,  their  affairs  as  righteous : 

But  all  hoods  make  not  monks. 

* 
Enter  the  tzuo  Cardinals,   IVolsey  and  Campeiiis. 

Wol.  Peace  to  your  highness  ! 

0  Kath.  Your  graces  find  me  here  part  of  a  housewife ; 

I  would  be  all,  against  the  worst  may  happen. 

What  are  your  pleasures  with  me,  reverend  lords  ? 
U^ol.  Alay  it  please  you,  noble  madam,  to  withdraw 

Into  your  private  chamber,  we  shall  give  you 

82 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.         Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

The  full  cause  of  our  coming. 

Q.  Kath.  Speak  it  here; 

There  's  nothing  I  have  done  yet,  o'  my  conscience, 

Deserves  a  corner:   w^ould  all  other  women  31 

Could  speak  this  with  as  free  a  soul  as  I  do! 

My  lords,  I  care  not,  so  much  I  am  happy 

Above  a  number,  if  my  actions 

Were  tried  by  every  tongue,  every  eye  saw  'em. 

Envy  and  base  opinion  set  against  'em, 

I  know  my  Hfe  so  even.    If  your  business 

Seek  me  out,  and  that  way  I  am  wife  in. 

Out  with  it  boldly:    truth  loves  open  dealing. 

IVoL  Tanta  est  erga  te  mentis  integritas,  regina  ser-     40 
enissima, — 

Q.  Kath.  O,  good  my  lord,  no  Latin; 

I  am  not  such  a  truant  since  my  coming, 

As  not  to  know  the  language  I  have  lived  in : 

A  strange  tongue  makes  my  cause  more  strange, 

suspicious; 
Pray  speak  in  English  :  here  are  some  will  thank  you, 
If  you  speak  truth,  for  their  poor  mistress'  sake; 
Believe  me,  she  has  had  much  wrong:  lord  cardinal. 
The  willing'st  sin  I  ever  yet  committed 
May  be  absolved  in  English. 

Wol.  Xoble  lady,  50 

I  am  sorry  my  integrity  should  breed, 
And  service  to  his  majesty  and  you. 
So  deep  suspicion,  where  all  faith  was  meant. 
We  come  not  by  the  way  of  accusation. 
To  taint  that  honour  every  good  tongue  blesses, 
Nor  to  betray  you  any  way  to  sorrow — 
You  have  too  much,  good  lady — but  to  know 

83 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.         FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

How  you  stand  minded  in  the  weighty  difference 
Between  the  king  and  you,  and  to  deUver, 
Like  free  and  honest  men,  our  just  opinions  60 

And  comforts  to  your  cause. 

Cam.  Most  honour'd  madam, 

My  Lord  of  York,  out  of  his  noble  nature. 
Zeal  and  obedience  he  still  bore  your  grace, 
Forgetting,  like  a  good  man,  your  late  censure 
Both  of  his  truth  and  him,  which  was  too  far, 
Offers,  as  I  do,  in  a  sign  of  peace, 
His  service  and  his  counsel. 

Q.  Kafh.  [Aside]   To  betray  me. — 

My  lords,  I  thank  you  both  for  your  good  wills; 
Ye  speak  like  honest  men ;   pray  God,  ye  prove  so ! 
But  how  to  make  ye  suddenly  an  answer,  70 

In  such  a  point  of  weight,  so  near  mine  honour, 
More  near  my  life,  I  fear,  with  my  weak  wit, 
And  to  such  men  of  gravity  and  learning. 
In  truth,  I  know  not.     I  was  set  at  work 
Among  my  maids,  full  little,  God  knows,  looking 
Either  for  such  men  or  such  business. 
For  her  sake  that  I  have  been — for  I  feel 
The  last  fit  of  my  greatness — good  your  graces. 
Let  me  have  time  and  counsel  for  my  cause: 
Alas,  I  am  a  woman,  friendless,  hopeless !  80 

Wol.  Madam,  you  wrong  the  king's  love  with  these  fears : 
Your  hopes  and  friends  are  infinite. 

Q.  Kath.  In  England 

But  little  for  my  profit:   can  you  think,  lords. 
That  any  Englishman  dare  give  me  counsel? 
Or  be  a  known  friend,  'gainst  his  highness'  pleasure — 
Though  he  be  grown  so  desperate  to  be  honest — 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.         Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

And  live  a  subject?    Nay,  forsooth,  my  friends, 

They  that  must  weigh  out  my  afflictions, 

They  that  my  trust  must  grow  to,  hve  not  here: 

They  are,  as  all  my  other  comforts,  far  hence        90 

In  mine  own  country,  lords. 
Ca7n.  I  would  your  grace 

Would  leave  your  griefs,  and  take  my  counsel. 
Q.  Kath.  How,  sir? 

Cam.  Put  your  main  cause  into  the  king's  protection; 

He's  loving  and  most  gracious:    'twill  be  much 

Both  for  your  honour  better  and  your  cause; 

For  if  the  trial  of  the  law  o'ertake  ye, 

You  '11  part  away  disgraced. 
IVol.  He  tells  you  rightly. 

0.  Kath.  Ye  tell  me  what  ye  wish  for  both,  my  ruin: 

Is  this  your  Christian  counsel?  out  upon  ye! 

Heaven  is  above  all  yet;  there  sits  a  judge  100 

That  no  king  can  corrupt. 
Cam.  Your  rage  mistakes  us. 

0.  Kath.  The  more  shame  for  ye:  holy  men  I  thought  ye. 

Upon  my  soul,  two  reverend  cardinal  virtues; 

But  cardinal  sins  and  hollow  hearts  I  fear  ye: 

Mend  'em,  for  shame,  my  lords.    Is  this  your  comfort  ? 

The  cordial  that  ye  bring  a  wretched  lady, 

A  woman  lost  among  ye,  laugh'd  at,  scorn'd? 

I  will  not  wish  ye  half  my  miseries; 

I  have  more  charity :  but  say,  I  warn'd  ye ; 

Take  heed,  for  heaven's  sake,  take  heed,  lest  at  once 

The  burthen  of  my  sorrows  fall  upon  ye.  in 

JVoI.  Madam,  this  is  a  mere  distraction; 

You  turn  the  good  we  offer  into  envy. 
Q.  Kath.  Ye  turn  me  into  nothing:  woe  upon  ye, 

85 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.         FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

And  all  such  false  professors!  would  you  have  me — 

If  you  have  any  justice,  any  pity, 

If  ye  be  any  thing  but  churchmen's  habits — 

Put  my  sick  cause  into  his  hands  that  hates  me? 

Alas,  has  banish'd  me  his  bed  already, 

His  love,  too  long  ago!    I  am  old,  my  lords,       120 

And  all  the  fellowship  I  hold  now  with  him 

Is  only  my  obedience.     What  can  happen 

To  me  above  this  wretchedness?   all  your  studies 

^lake  me  a  curse  like  this. 

Cam.  Your  fears  are  worse. 

0.  Kafh.  Have  I  lived  thus  long — let  me  speak  myself, 

Since  virtue  finds  no  friends — a  wife,  a  true  one? 

A  woman,  I  dare  say  without  vain-glory, 

Never  yet  branded  with  suspicion? 

Have  I  with  all  my  full  affections 

Still  met  the  king?  loved  him  next  heaven  ?  obey'dhim? 

Been,  out  of  fondness,  superstitious  to  him?  131 

Almost  forgot  my  prayers  to  content  him-? 

And  am  I  thus  rewarded?    'tis  not  well,  lords. 

Bring  me  a  constant  woman  to  her  husband, 

One  that  ne'er  dream'd  a  joy  beyond  his  pleasure. 

And  to  that  woman,  when  she  has  done  most. 

Yet  will  I  add  an  honour,  a  great  patience. 
IV of.  Madam,  you  wander  from  the  good  we  aim  at. 
Q.  Kaih.  My  lord,  I  dare  not  make  myself  so  guilty, 

To  give  up  willingly  that  noble  title  140 

Your  master  wed  me  to:    nothing  but  death 

Shall  e'er  divorce  my  dignities. 
Wol.  Pray,  hear  me. 

Q.  Kath.  Would  I  had  never  trod  this  English  earth. 

Or  felt  the  flatteries  that  grow  upon  it! 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.         Act  III.  Sc.  i. 

Ye  have  angels'  faces,  but  heaven  knows  your  hearts. 

What  win  become  of  me  now,  wretched  lady! 

I  am  the  most  unhappy  woman  Hving. 

Alas,  poor  wenches,  where  are  now  your  fortunes? 

Shipwreck'd  upon  a  kingdom,  where  no  pity, 

No  friends,  no  hope;   no  kindred  weep  for  me;  150 

Almost  no  grave  allow'd  me:   like  the  lily, 

That  once  was  mistress  of  the  field  and  flourish'd, 

I  '11  hang  my  head  and  perish. 

IVol.  If  your  grace 

Could  but  be  brought  to  know  our  ends  arc  honest, 

You  'Id  feel  more  comfort :  why  should  we,  good  lady, 

Upon  what  cause,  wrong  you?    alas,  our  places, 

The  way  of  our  profession  is  against  it: 

We  are  to  cure  such  sorrows,  not  to  sow  'em. 

For  goodness'  sake,  consider  what  you  do; 

How  you  may  hurt  yourself,  ay,  utterly  160 

Grow  from  the  king's  acquaintance,  by  this  carriage. 

The  hearts  of  princes  kiss  obedience, 

So  much  they  love  it;  but  to  stubborn  spirits 

They  swell,  and  grow^  as  terrible  as  storms. 

I  know  you  have  a  gentle,  noble  temper, 

A  soul  as  even  as  a  calm:   pray  think  us 

Those  we  profess,  peace-makers,  friends  and  servants. 

Cant.  Madam,  you  '11  find  it  so.     You  wrong  your  virtues 
With  these  weak  w^omen's  fears  :  a  noble  spirit, 
As  yours  was  put  into  you,  ever  casts  170 

Such  doubts,  as  false  coin,  from  it.    The  king  loves 

you; 
Beware  you  lose  it  not:   for  us,  if  you  please 
To  trust  us  in  your  business,  we  are  ready- 
To  use  our  utmost  studies  in  your  service. 

87 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Q.  Kath,  Do  what  ye  will,  my  lords  :  and  pray  forgive  me, 
If  I  have  used  myself  unmamierly; 
You  know  I  am  a  woman,  lacking  wit 
To  make  a  seemly  answer  to  such  persons. 
Pray  do  my  service  to  his  majesty: 
He  has  my  heart  yet,  and  shall  have  my  prayers  i8o 
While  I  shall  have  my  life.    Come,  reverend  fathers. 
Bestow  your  counsels  on  me:    she  now  begs, 
That  little  thought,  when  she  set  footing  here, 
She  should  have  bought  her  dignities  so  dear. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  II. 

Ante-chamber  to  the  King's  apartment. 

Enter  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  the 
Earl  of  Surrey,  and  the  Lord  Chamberlain. 

Nor.  If  you  will  now  unite  in  your  complaints 

And  force  them  with  a  constancy,  the  cardinal 
Cannot  stand  under  them :   if  you  omit 
The  offer  of  this  time,  I  cannot  promise 
But  that  you  shall  sustain  moe  new  disgraces. 
With  these  you  bear  already. 

Sur,  I  am  joyful 

To  meet  the  least  occasion  that  may  give  me 
Remembrance  of  my  father-in-law,  the  duke, 
To  be  revenged  on  him. 

Suf.  Which  of  the  peers 

Have  uncontemn'd  gone  by  him,  or  at  least  10 

Strangely  neglected?  when  did  he  regard 
The  stamp  of  nobleness  in  any  person 
Out  of  himself? 

88 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

Cham.  My  lords,  yon  speak  your  pleasures : 

What  he  deserves  of  you  and  me  I  know ; 
What  we  can  do  to  him,  though  now  the  time 
Gives  way  to  us,  I  much  fear.     If  you  cannot 
Bar  his  access  to  the  king,  never  attempt 
Any  thing  on  him  ;   for  he  hath  a  witchcraft 
Over  the  king  in  's  tongue. 

Nor.  O,  fear  him  not ; 

His  spell  in  that  is  out :   the  king  hath  found  2C 

Matter  against  him  that  for  ever  mars 
The  honey  of  his  language.     No,  he  's  settled, 
Not  to  come  off,  in  his  displeasure. 

Sur.  Sir, 

I  should  be  glad  to  hear  such  news  as  this 
Once  every  hour. 

Nor.  Believe  it,  this  is  true : 

In  the  divorce  his  contrary  proceedings 
Are  all  unfolded  ;   wherein  he  appears 
As  I  would  wish  mine  enemy. 

Stir.  How  came 

His  practices  to  light? 

Snf.  Most  strangely. 

Siir.  O,  how,  how? 

Snf.  The  cardinal's  letters  to  the  pope  miscarried,  30 

And  came  to  the  eye  o'  the  king :  wherein  was  read 
How  that  the  cardinal  did  entreat  his  holiness 
To  stay  the  judgement  o'  the  divorce ;   for  if 
It  did  take  place,  '  I  do  '  quoth  he  '  perceive 
My  king  is  tangled  in  afifection  to 
A  creature  of  the  queen's.  Lady  Anne  Bullen/ 

Sur.  Has  the  king  this  ? 

Snf.  Believe  it. 

89 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Sur.  Will  this  work  ? 

Cham.  The  king  in  this  perceives  him,  how  he  coasts 
And  hedges  his  own  way.     But  in  this  point 
All  his  tricks  founder,  and  he  brings  his  physic       40 
After  his  patient's  death  :  the  king  already 
Hath  married  the  fair  lady. 

Sur.  Would  he  had ! 

Siif.  May  you  be  happy  in  your  wish,  my  lord ! 
For,  I  profess,  you  have  it. 

Sur.  Now,  all  my  joy 

Trace  the  conjunction! 

Suf.  Aly  amen  to  't ! 

Nor.  All  men's ! 

Suf.  There  's  order  given  for  her  coronation  : 

Marry,  this  is  yet  but  young,  and  may  be  left 

To  some  ears  unrecounted.     But,  my  lords, 

She  is  a  gallant  creature  and  complete 

In  mind  and  feature:    I  persuade  me,  from  her     50 

Will  fall  some  blessing  to  this  land,  which  shall 

In  it  be  memorized. 

Sur,  But  will  the  king 

Digest  this  letter  of  the  cardinal's? 
The  Lord  forbid ! 

Nor.  Alarry,  amen ! 

Suf.  No,  no; 

There  be  moe  wasps  that  buzz  about  his  nose 
Will  make  this  sting  the  sooner.    Cardinal  Campeius 
Is  stol'n  away  to  Rome  ;  hath  ta'en  no  leave ; 
Has  left  the  cause  o'  the  king  unhandled,  and 
Is  posted  as  the  agent  of  our  cardinal, 
To  second  all  his  plot.    I  do  assure  you  60 

The  king  cried  '  Ha  ! '  at  this. 
90 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

Cham.  Now  God  incense  him, 

And  let  him  cry  '  Ha ! '  louder ! 
?\Tgj.^  But,  my  lord, 

When  returns  Cranmer? 
Suf.  He  is  returned  in  his  opinions,  which 

Have  satisfied  the  king  for  his  divorce, 

Together  with  all  famous  colleges 

Almost  in  Christendom:    shortly,  I  believe. 

His  second  marriage  shall  be  publish'd,  and 

Her  coronation.     Katharine  no  more 

Shall  be  call'd  queen,  but  princess  dowager  70 

And  widow  to  Prince  Arthur. 
j^Q^^  This  same  Cranmer  's 

A  worthy  fellow,  and  hath  ta'en  much  pain 

In  the  king's  business. 
5-1^/  He  has  ;  and  we  shall  see  him 

For  it  an  archbishop. 
jVor.  So  I  hear. 

Suf.  'Tis  so. 

The  cardinal ! 

Enter  Wolsey  and  Cromzvell. 

JSfor.  Observe,  observe,  he  's  moody. 

WoL  The  packet,  Cromwell, 
Gave  't  you  the  king  ? 

Crom.  To  his  own  hand,  in  's  bedchamber. 

WoL  Look'd  he  o'  the  inside  of  the  paper? 

Crom.  Presently 

He  did  unseal  them,  and  the  first  he  view'd, 
He  did  it  with  a  serious  mJnd  ;   a  heed  80 

Was  in  his  countenance.     You  he  bade 
Attend  him  here  this  morning. 

91 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.       FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Wol.  Is  he  ready 

To  come  abroad  ? 

Croui.  I  think,  by  this  he  is. 

Wol.  Leave  me  awhile.  [Exit  Cromwell 

[Aside]   It  shall  be  to  the  Duchess  of  Alenqon, 
The  French  king's  sister :   he  shall  marry  her. 
Anne  Bullen !     No ;  I  '11  no  Anne  BuUens  for  him  : 
There  's  more  in  't  than  fair  visage.     Bullen  ! 
No,  we  '11  no  Bullens.     Speedily  I  wish 
To  hear   from   Rome.     The   Marchioness   of   Pem- 
broke !  90 

No7'.  He  's  discontented. 

Suf.  May  be,  he  hears  the  king 

Does  whet  his  anger  to  him. 

Sur.  Sharp  enough, 

Lord,  for  thy  justice! 

Wol.    [Aside]  The  late  queen's  gentlewoman,  a  knight's 
daughter, 
To  be  her  mistress'  mistress  !  the  queen's  queen ! 
This  candle  burns  not  clear  :  'tis  I  must  snuff  it ; 
Then  out  it  goes.     What  though  I  know  her  virtuous 
And  well  deserving?  yet  I  know  her  for 
A  spleeny  Lutheran,  and  not  wholesome  to 
Our  cause,  that  she  should  lie  i'  the  bosom  of        100 
Our  hard-ruled  king.     Again,  there  is  sprung  up 
An  heretic,  an  arch  one,  Cranmer,  one 
Hath  crawl'd  into  the  favour  of  the  king. 
And  is  his  oracle. 

Noi\  He  is  vex'd  at  something. 

Sur.  I    would    'twere    something    that    would    fret    the 
string, 
The  master-cord  on  's  heart ! 
92 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

Enter  King,  reading  of  a  sehedule,  and  Lovell. 

Stif.  The  king,  the  king  ! 

King.  \Miat  piles  of  wealth  hath  he  accumulated 

To  his  own  portion !   and  what  expense  by  the  hour 
Seems  to  flow  from  him  !     How,  i'  the  name  of  thrift, 
Does  he  rake  this  together  ?     Now,  my  lords,  no 

Saw  you  the  cardinal  ? 

Nor.  'My  lord,  we  have 

Stood  here  observing  him :   some  strange  commotion 
Is  in  his  brain  :   he  bites  his  lip,  and  starts  ; 
Stops  on  a  sudden,  looks  upon  the  ground. 
Then  lays  his  finger  on  his  temple ;   straight 
Springs  out  into  fast  gait ;  then  stops  again, 
Strikes  his  breast  hard,  and  anon  he  casts 
His  eye  against  the  moon  :  in  most  strange  postures 
We  have  seen  him  set  himself. 

King.  It  may  well  be; 

There  is  a  mutiny  in  's  mind.     This  morning  120 

Papers  of  state  he  sent  me  to  peruse, 

As  I  required :  and  wot  you  what  1  found 

There,  on  my  conscience,  put  unwittingly? 

Forsooth,  an  inventory,  thus  importing, 

The  several  parcels  of  his  plate,  his  treasure. 

Rich  stuffs,  and  ornaments  of  household,  which 

I  find  at  such  proud  rate  that  it  out-speaks 

Possession  of  a  subject. 

Nor.  It  's  heaven's  will : 

Some  spirit  put  this  paper  in  the  packet, 
To  bless  your  eye  withal. 

King.  If  we  did  think  130 

His  contemplation  were  above  the  earth, 

93 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

And  fix'd  on  spiritual  object,  he  should  still 
Dwell  in  his  musings :   but  I  am  afraid 
His  thinkings  are  below  the  moon,  not  worth 
His  serious  considering. 

[King  takes  his  scat;    zvhispcrs  Lovcll, 
zuho  goes  to  the  Cardinal. 

Wol.  Heaven  forgive  me  ! 

Ever  God  bless  your  highness ! 

King.  Good  my  lord, 

You  are  full  of  heavenly  stuff,  and  bear  the  inventory 
Of  your  best  graces  in  your  mind ;  the  which 
You  were  now  running  o'er :   you  have  scarce  time 
To  steal  from  spiritual  leisure  a  brief  span  140 

To  keep  your  earthly  audit :   sure,  in  that 
I  deem  you  an  ill  husband,  and  am  glad 
To  have  you  therein  my  companion. 

Wol  Sir, 

For  holy  offices  I  have  a  time ;   a  time 
To  think  upon  the  part  of  business  which 
I  bear  i'  the  state ;   and  nature  does  require 
Her  times  of  preservation,  which  perforce 
I,  her  frail  son,  amongst  my  brethren  mortal, 
Must  give  my  tendence  to. 

King.  You  have  said  well. 

Wol.  And  ever  may  your  highness  yoke  together,        150 
As  I  will  lend  you  cause,  my  doing  well 
With  my  well  saying ! 

King.  'Tis  well  said  again  ; 

And  'tis  a  kind  of  good  deed  to  say  well : 
And  yet  words  are  no  deeds.     My  father  loved  you  : 
He  said  he  did,  and  with  his  deed  did  crown 
His  word  upon  you.     Since  I  had  my  office, 

94 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

I  have  kept  you  next  my  heart ;  have  not  alone 
Emplov'd  you  where  high  profits  might  come  home, 
But  pared  my  present  havings,  to  bestow 
My  bounties  upon  you. 

Wol.  [Aside]   What  should  this  mean?  i6o 

Sur.    [Aside]  The  Lord  increase  this  business! 

King.  Have  I  not  made  you 

The  prime  man  of  the  state  ?   I  pray  you,  tell  me, 
If  what  I  now  pronounce  you  have  found  true : 
And,  if  you  may  confess  it,  say  withal, 
If  you  are  bound  to  us  or  no.     What  say  you? 

Wol.  My  sovereign,  I  confess  your  royal  graces. 

Shower' d  on  me  daily,  have  been  more  than  could 
My  studied  purposes  requite ;    which  went 
Beyond  all  man's  endeavours :   my  endeavours 
Have  ever  come  too  short  of  my  desires,  170 

Yet  filed  with  my  abilities  :   mine  own  ends 
Have  been  mine  so  that  evermore  they  pointed 
To  the  good  of  your  most  sacred  person  and 
The  profit  of  the  state.     For  your  great  graces 
Heap'd  upon  me,  poor  undeserver,  I 
Can  nothing  render  but  alleglant  thanks. 
My  prayers  to  heaven  for  you,  my  loyalty, 
Which  ever  has  and  ever  shall  be  growing. 
Till  death,  that  winter,  kill  it. 

King.  Fairly  answer'd ; 

A  loyal  and  obedient  subject  is  180 

Therein  illustrated  :   the  honour  of  it 

Does  pay  the  act  of  it ;  as,  i'  the  contrary, 

The  foulness  is  the  punishment.     I  presume 

That,  as  my  hand  has  open'd  bounty  to  you, 

My  heart  dropp'd  love,  my  power  rain'd  honour,  more 

95 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

On  you  than  any ;   so  your  hand  and  heart, 
Your  brain  and  every  function  of  your  power, 
Should,  notwithstanding  that  your  bond  of  duty, 
As  'twere  in  love's  particular,  be  more 
To  me,  your  friend,  than  any. 

J  Vol.  I  do  profess  190 

That  for  your  highness'  good  I  ever  labour'd 
More  than  mine  own  ;  that  am,  have,  and  will  be — 
Though  all  the  world  should  crack  their  duty  to  you, 
And  throw  it  from  their  soul ;  though  perils  did 
Abound,  as  thick  as  thought  could  make  'em,  and 
Appear  in  forms  more  horrid — yet  my  duty, 
As  doth  a  rock  against  the  chiding  flood,  ♦ 

Should  the  approach  of  this  wild  river  break, 
And  stand  unshaken  yours. 

King.  'Tis  nobly  spoken. 

Take  notice,  lords,  he  has  a  loyal  breast,  200 

For  you  have  seen  him  open  't.  [Gk'ing  him  papers.] 

Read  o'er  this ; 
And  after,  this :    and  then  to  breakfast  with 
What  appetite  you  have. 

[Exit  King,  frozvning  upon  the  Cardinal:  the 
nobles  throng  after  him,  smiling  and  whis- 
pering. 

IVol.  What  should  this  mean? 

What  sudden  anger  's  this  ?  how  have  I  reap'd  it  ? 
He  parted  frowning  from  me,  as  if  ruin 
Leap'd  from  his  eyes.     So  looks  the  chafed  lion 
Upon  the  daring  huntsman  that  has  gall'd  him ; 
Then  makes  him  nothing.     I  must  read  this  paper ; 
I  fear,  the  story  of  his  anger.     'Tis  so ; 
This  paper  has  undone  me :   'tis  the  account  210 

Of  all  that  world  of  wealth  I  have  drawn  together 

96 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

For  mine  own  ends  ;  indeed,  to  gain  the  popedom, 
And  fee  my  friends  in  Rome.     O  neglige  iicj! 
Fit  for  a  fool  to  fall  by :   what  cross  devil 
Made  me  put  this  main  secret  in  the  packet 
I  sent  the  king?     Is  there  no  way  to  cure  this? 
No  new  device  to  beat  this  from  his  brains  ? 
I  know  'twill  stir  him  strongly ;   yet  I  know 
A  way,  if  it  take  right,  in  spite  of  fortune 
Will  bring  me  off  again.     What 's  this  ?     '  To  the 
Pope ! '  220 

The  letter,  as  I  live,  with  all  the  business 
I  writ  to  's  holiness.     Nay  then,  farewell ! 
I  have  touch'd  the  highest  point  of  all  my  greatness ; 
And,  from  that  full  meridian  of  my  glory, 
I  haste  now  to  my  setting :    I  shall  fall 
Like  a  bright  exhalation  in  the  evening, 
And  no  man  see  me  more. 

Re-enter  to  Wolsey  the  Diikes  of  A' or  folk  and  Suffolk,  the 
Earl  of  Surrey,  and  the  Lord  Chamberlain. 

Nor.  Hear  the  king's  pleasure,  cardinal :   w^ho  commands 
you 

To  render  up  the  great  seal  presently 

Into  our  hands  ;  and  to  confine  yourself,  230 

To  Asher-house,  my  Lord  of  Winchester's, 

Till  you  hear  further  from  his  highness. 
Wol.  Stay : 

Where  's  your  commission,  lords  ?  words  cannot  carry 

Authority  so  w^eighty. 
Suf.  V\\\o  dare  cross  'em, 

Bearing  the  king's  will  from  his  mouth  expressly? 
Wol.  Till  I  find  more  than  will  or  words  to  do  it — 

97 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

I  mean  your  malice — know,  officious  lords, 

T  dare,  and  must  deny  it.     Now  I  feel 

Of  what  coarse  metal  ye  are  moulded — envy: 

How  eagerly  ye  follow  my  disgraces,  240 

As  if  it  fed  ye !  and  how  sleek  and  wanton 

Ye  appear  in  every  thing  may  bring  my  ruin ! 

Follow  your  envious  courses,  men  of  malice ; 

You  have  Christian  warrant  for  'em,  and,  no  doubt. 

In  time  will  find  their  fit  rewards.     That  seal 

You  ask  with  such  a  violence,  the  king. 

Mine  and  your  master,  with  his  own  hand  gave  me  ; 

Bade  me  enjoy  it,  with  the  place  and  honours. 

During  my  life ;  and,  to  confirm  his  goodness, 

Tied  it  by  letters-patents  :  now,  who  '11  take  it  ? 

Sur.  The  king,  that  gave  it. 

Wol.  It  must  be  himself,  then.     251 

Sur.  Thou  art  a  proud  traitor,  priest. 

Wol.  Proud  lord,  thou  liest : 

Within  these  forty  hours  Surrey  durst  better 
Have  burnt  that  tongue  than  said  so. 

Sur.  Thy  ambition, 

Thou  scarlet  sin,  robb'd  this  bewailing  land 
Of  noble  Buckingham,  my  father-in-law ; 
The  heads  of  all  thy  brother  cardinals. 
With  thee  and  all  thy  best  parts  bound  together, 
Weigh'd  not  a  hair  of  his.     Plague  of  your  policy ! 
You  sent  me  deputy  for  Ireland ;  260 

Far  from  4"iis  succour,  from  the  king,  from  all 
That  might  have  mercy  on  the  fault  thou  gavest  him ; 
Whilst  your  great  goodness,  out  of  holy  pity, 
Absolved  him  with  an  axe. 

Wol.  This,  and  all  else. 

98 


LIFE  or  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

This  talking  lord  can  lay  upon  my  credit, 
I  answer,  is  most  false.     The  duke  by  law 
Found  his  deserts.    How  innocent  I  was 
From  any  private  malice  in  his  end, 
His  noble  jury  and  foul  cause  can  witness. 
If  I  loved  many  words,  lord,  I  should  tell  you        270 
You  have  as  little  honesty  as  honour, 
That  in  the  way  of  loyalty  and  truth 
Toward  the  king,  my  ever  royal  master, 
Dare  m.ate  a  sounder  man  than  Surrey  can  be. 
And  all  that  love  his  follies. 
Stir.  By  my  soul, 

Your  long  coat,  priest,  protects  you ;   thou  shouldst 

feel 
My  sword  i'  the  Ufe-blood  of  thee  else.     My  lords. 
Can  ye  endure  to  hear  this  arrogance  ? 
And  from  this  fellow  ?    If  we  live  thus  tamely. 
To  be  thus  jaded  by  a  piece  of  scarlet,  280 

Farewell  nobility  :  let  his  grace  go  forward, 
And  dare  us  with  his  cap  like  larks. 
jVol.  Al^  goodness 

Is  poison  to  thy  stomach. 
^i^y^  Yes,  that  goodness 

Of  gleaning  all  the  land's  wealth  into  one, 
Into  your  own  hands,  cardinal,  by  extortion ; 
The  goodness  of  your  intercepted  packets 
You  writ  to  the  pope  against  the  king :  your  goodness, 
Since  you  provoke  me,  shall  be  most  notorious. 
My  Lord  of  Norfolk,  as  you  are  truly  noble, 
As  you  respect  the  common  good,  the  state  290 

Of  our  despised  nobility,  our  issues, 
Who,  if  he  live,  will  scarce  be  gentlemen, 
99 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Produce  the  grand  sum  of  his  sins,  the  articles 
Collected  from  his  life.     I  '11  startle  you 
Worse  than  the  sacring  bell,  when  the  brown  wench 
Lay  kissing  in  your  arms,  lord  cardinal. 

Wol.  How  much,  methinks,  I  could  despise  this  man, 
But  that  I  am  bound  in  charity  against  it ! 

Nor.  Those  articles,  my  lord,  are  in  the  king's  hand : 
But,  thus  much,  they  are  foul  ones. 

Wol.  So  much  fairer  300 

And  spotless  shall  mine  innocence  arise, 
When  the  king  knows  my  truth. 

Siir.  This  cannot  save  you  : 

I  thank  my  memory,  I  yet  remember 
Some  of  these  articles,  and  out  they  shall. 
Now,  if  you  can  blush  and  cry  '  guilty,'  cardinal, 
You  '11  show  a  little  honesty. 

IV oL  Speak  on,  sir; 

I  dare  your  worst  objections:   if  I  blush. 
It  is  to  see  a  nobleman  want  manners. 

Sur.  I  had  rather  want  those  than  my  head.   Have  at  you  ! 
First  that,  without  the  king's  assent  or  knowledge. 
You  wrought  to  be  a  legate  ;  by  which  power        311 
You  maim'd  the  jurisdiction  of  all  bishops. 

Xor.  Then  that  in  all  you  writ  to  Rome,  or  else 
To  foreign  princes,  '  Ego  et  Rex  mens  ' 
Was  still  inscribed ;  in  which  you  brought  the  king 
To  be  your  servant. 

Suf.  Then  that,  without  the  knowledge 

Either  of  king  or  council,  when  you  went 
Ambassador  to  the  emperor,  you  made  bold 
To  carry  into  Flanders  the  great  seal. 

Sitr.  Item,  you  sent  a  large  commission  320 

100 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

To  Gregory  de  Cassado,  to  conclude, 

Without  the  king's  will  or  the  state's  allowance, 

A  league  between  his  highness  and  Ferrara. 

Suf.  That,  out  of  mere  ambition,  you  have  caused 
Your  holy  hat  to  be  stampd  on  the  king's  coin. 

Snr.  Then,  that  you  have  sent  innumerable  substance — 
By  what  means  got,  I  leave  to  your  own  conscience — 
To  furnish  Rome,  and  to  prepare  the  ways 
You  have  for  dignities,  to  the  mere  undoing 
Of  all  the  kingdom.     Many  more  there  are  ;  330 

Which,  since  they  are  of  you  and  odious, 
I  will  not  taint  my  mouth  with. 

Cham.  O  my  lord! 

Press  not  a  falling  man  too  far ;   'tis  virtue : 
His  faults  lie  open  to  the  laws ;   let  them, 
Not  you,  correct  him.    My  heart  weeps  to  see  him 
So  little  of  his  great  self. 

Snr.  I  forgive  him. 

Suf.  Lord  cardinal,  the  king's  further  pleasure  is — 
Because  all  those  things  you  have  done  of  late. 
By  your  power  legatine,  within  this  kingdom, 
Fall  into  the  compass  of  a  praemunire —  340 

That  therefore  such  a  writ  be  sued  against  you ; 
To  forfeit  all  your  goods,  lands,  tenements, 
Chattels,  and  whatsoever,  and  to  be 
Out  of  the  king's  protection.     This  is  my  charge. 

Nor.  And  so  we  '11  leave  you  to  your  meditations 
How  to  live  better.    For  your  stubborn  answer 
About  the  giving  back  the  great  seal  to  us. 
The  king  shall  know  it,  and,  no  doubt,  shall  thank  you. 
So  fare  you  well,  my  little  good  lord  cardinal. 

[Exeunt  all  hut  Wolsey. 

lOI 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.       FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

IVol.  So  farewell  to  the  little  good  you  bear  me.  350 

Farewell !  a  long  farewell,  to  all  my  greatness ! 
This  is  the  state  of  man  :  to-day  he  puts  forth 
The  tender  leaves  of  hopes ;   to-morrow  blossoms, 
And  bears  his  blushing  honours  thick  upon  him ; 
The  third  day  comes  a  frost,  a  killing  frost, 
And,  when  he  thinks,  good  easy  man,  full  surely 
His  greatness  is  a-ripening,  nips  his  root, 
And  then  he  falls,  as  I  do.     I  have  ventured, 
Like  little  wanton  boys  that  swim  on  bladders. 
This  many  summers  in  a  sea  of  glory,  360 

But  far  beyond  my  depth :    my  high-blown  pride 
At  length  broke  under  me,  and  now  has  left  me, 
Weary  and  old  with  service,  to  the  mercy 
Of  a  rude  stream  that  must  for  ever  hide  me. 
Vain  pomp  and  glory  of  this  world,  I  hate  ye : 
I  feel  my  heart  new  open'd.    O,  how  wretched 
'     Is  that  poor  man  that  hangs  on  princes'  favours ! 
There  is,  betwixt  that  smile  we  would  aspire  to. 
That  sweet  aspect  of  princes,  and  their  ruin, 
More  pangs  and  fears  than  wars  or  women  have : 
And  when  he  falls,  he  falls  like  Lucifer,  371 

Never  to  hope  again. 

Enter  Cromwell,  and  stands  amazed. 

Why,  how  now,  Cromwell ! 
Crom.  I  have  no  power  to  speak,  sir. 
Wol.  What,  amazed 

At  my  misfortunes  ?   can  thy  spirit  wonder 
A  great  man  should  decline  ?    Nay,  an  you  weep, 
I  am  fall'n  indeed. 
Crom.  How  does  your  grace? 

102 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.       Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

IVoL  Why,  well; 

Never  so  truly  happy,  my  good  Cromwell. 
I  know  myself  now  ;    and  I  feel  within  me 
A  peace  above  all  earthly  dignities,  379 

A  still  and  quiet  conscience.    The  king  has  cnred  me, 
I  humbly  thank  his  grace ;   and  from  these  shcndders, 
These  ruin'd  pillars,  out  of  pity,  taken 
A  load  would  sink  a  navy,  too  much  honour. 
O,  'tis  a  burden,  Cromwell,  'tis  a  burden 
Too  heavy  for  a  man  that  hopes  for  heaven ! 

Croui.  I  am  glad  your  grace  has  made  that  right  use  of  it. 

IVcl.  I  hope  I  have :   I  am  able  now,  methinks, 
Out  of  a  fortitude  of  soul  I  feel, 
To  endure  more  miseries  and  greater  far 
Than  my  weak-hearted  enemies  dare  offer.  390 

What  news  abroad? 

Crom.  The  heaviest  and  the  worst 

Is  your  displeasure  with  the  king. 

IVoL  God  bless  him  ! 

Crom.  The  next  is,  that  Sir  Thomas  More  is  chosen 
Lord  chancellor  in  your  place. 

IVol.  That 's  somewhat  sudden  : 

But  he  's  a  learned  man.     May  he  continue 
Long  in  his  highness'  favour,  and  do  justice 
For  truth's  sake  and  his  conscience ;  that  his  bones, 
When  he  has  run  his  course  and  sleeps  in  blessings, 
May  have  a  tomb  of  orphans'  tears  wept  on  'em ! 
What  more? 

Crom.  That  Cranmer  is  return'd  with  welcome,   400 

Install'd  lord  archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

IVol.  That 's  news  indeed. 

Crom.  Last,  that  the  Lady  Anne, 

103 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii,        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Whom  the  king  hath  in  secrecy  long  married, 
This  day  was  view'd  in  open  as  his  queen, 
Going  to  chapel ;   and  the  voice  is  now 
Only  about  her  coronation. 

U'ol.  There   was   the  weight  that  puH'd  me   down.     O 
Cromwell, 
The  kmg  has  gone  beyond  me :  all  my  glories 
In  that  one  woman  I  have  lost  for  ever : 
No  sun  shall  ever  usher  forth  mine  honours,  410 

Or  gild  again  the  noble  troops  that  waited 
Upon  my  smiles.     Go,  get  thee  from  me,  Cromwell ; 
I  am  a  poor  fall'n  man,  unworthy  now 
To  be  thy  lord  and  master :  seek  the  king ; 
That  sun,  I  pray,  may  never  set !    I  have  told  him 
What  and  how  true  thou  art :   he  will  advance  thee ; 
Some  little  memory  of  me  will  stir  him — 
I  know  his  noble  nature — not  to  let 
Thy  hopeful  service  perish  too :  good  Cromwell, 
Neglect  him  not ;  make  use  now,  and  provide       420 
For  thine  own  future  safety. 

Crom.  O  my  lord. 

Must  I  then  leave  you  ?  must  I  needs  forgo 
So  good,  so  noble  and  so  true  a  master? 
Bear  witness,  all  that  have  not  hearts  of  iron, 
With  what  a  sorrow  Cromwell  leaves  his  lord. 
The  king;  shall  have  my  service,  but  my  prayers 
For  ever  and  for  ever  shall  be  yours. 

Wol.  Cromwell,  I  did  not  think  to  shed  a  tear 

In  all  my  miseries ;  but  thou  hast  forced  me, 
Out  of  thy  honest  truth,  to  play  the  woman.  430 

Let 's  dry  our  eyes  :  and  thus  far  hear  me,  Cromwell ; 
And,  when  I  am  forgotten,  as  I  shall  be, 
104 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

And  sleep  in  dull  cold  marble,  where  no  mention 
Of  me  more  must  be  heard  of,  say,  I  taught  thee ; 
Say,  Wolsey,  that  once  trod  the  ways  of  glory. 
And  sounded  all  the  depths  and  shoals  of  honour, 
Found  thee  a  way,  out  of  his  wTeck,  to  rise  in ; 
A  sure  and  safe  one,  though  thy  master  miss'd  it. 
Mark  but  my  fall  and  that  that  ruin'd  me. 
Cromwell,  I  charge  thee,  fling  away  ambition :      440 
Bv  that  sin  fell  the  angels  ;  how  can  man  then, 
The  image  of  his  Maker,  hope  to  win  by  it? 
Love  thyself  last :  cherish  those  hearts  that  hate  thee  ; 
Corruption  wins  not  more  than  honesty. 

Still  in  thy  right  hand  carry  gentle  peace, 
To  silence  envious  tongues.     Be  just,  and  fear  not: 
Let  all  the  ends  thou  aim'st  at  be  thy  country's. 
Thy    God's,    and    truth's;     then    if    thou    fall'st,    O 
Cromwell. 

Thou  fall'st  a  blessed  martyr  !     Serve  the  king ; 

And  prithee,  lead  me  in  :  45^ 

There  take  an  inventory  of  all  I  have, 

To  the  last  penny  ;   'tis  the  king's  :   my  robe, 

And  my  integrity  to  heaven,  is  all 

I  dare  now  call  mine  own.     O  Cromwell,  Cromwell !. 

Had  I  but  served  my  God  with  half  the  zeal 

I  served  my  king,  he  would  not  in  mine  age 

Have  left  me  naked  to  mine  enemies. 
Crom.  Good  sir,  have  patience. 
IYqI  So  I  have.     Farewell 

The  hopes  of  court !  my  hopes  in  heaven  do  dwell. 

[Exeunt, 


105 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.         FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

ACT  FOURTH. 
Scene  I. 

A  street  in  Westminster. 

Enter  tzvo  Gentlemen,  meeting  one  another. 

First  Gent.  You  're  well  met  once  again. 

Sec.  Gent.  So  are  you. 

First  Gent.  You  come  to  take  your  stand  here  and  behold 

The  Lady  Anne  pass  from  her  coronation? 
Sec.  Gent.  'Tis  all  my  business.     At  our  last  encounter, 

The  Duke  of  Buckingham  came  from  his  trial. 
First  Gent.  'Tis  very  true :  but  that  time  offer' d  sorrow ; 

This,  general  joy. 
Sec.  Gent.  'Tis  well:   the  citizens, 

I  am  sure,  have  shown  at  full  their  royal  minds — • 

As,  let  'em  have  their  rights,  they  are  ever  forward — 

In  celebration  of  this  day  with  shows,  lO 

Pageants  and  sights  of  honour. 
First  Gent.  Never  greater, 

Nor,  I  '11  assure  you,  better  taken,  sir. 
Sec.  Gent.  Alay  I  be  bold  to  ask  what  that  contains, 

That  paper  in  your  hand  ? 
First  Gent.  Yes  ;   'tis  the  list 

Of  those  that  claim  their  offices  this  day 

By  custom  of  the  coronation. 

The  Duke  of  Suffolk  is  the  first,  and  claims 

To  be  high-steward ;   next,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk, 

He  to  be  earl  marshal :  you  may  read  the  rest. 
Sec.  Gent.  I  thank  you,  sir :  had  I  not  known  those  customs, 

I  should  have  been  beholding  to  your  paper.  21 

106 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.         Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

But,  I  beseech  you,  what  's  become  of  Katharine, 
The  princess  dowager  ?  how  goes  her  business  ? 

First  Gent.  That  I  can  tell  you  too.     The  Archbishop 
Of  Canterbury,  accompanied  with  other 
Learned  and  reverend  fathers  of  his  order, 
Held  a  late  court  at  Dunstable,  six  miles  off 
From  Ampthill,  where  the  princess  lay ;   to  which 
She  was  often  cited  by  them,  but  appear'd  not : 
And,  to  be  short,  for  not  appearance  and  30 

The  king's  late  scruple,  by  the  main  assent 
Of  all  these  learned  men  she  was  divorced, 
And  the  late  marriage  made  of  none  effect : 
Since  which  she  was  removed  to  Kimbolton, 
Where  she  remains  now  sick. 

Sec.  Gent.  Alas,  good  lady! 

[Trumpets. 
The  trumpets  sound  :  stand  close,  the  queen  is  coming. 

[Hautboys. 

THE  ORDER  OF  THE  CORONATION. 

1.  A  lively  Flourish  of  trumpets. 

2.  Then  two  Judges. 

3.  Lord  Chancellor,  zvith  purse  and  mace  before  him. 

4.  Choristers,  singing.  Musicians. 

5.  Mayor  of  London,  bearing  the  mace.     Then  Garter,  in 

his  coat  of  arms,  and  on  his  head  he  wears  a  gilt 
copper  crown. 

6.  Marquess  Dorset,  bearing  a  sceptre  of  gold,  on  his  head 

a  demi-coronal  of  gold.  With  him,  the  Earl  of 
Surrey,  bearing  the  rod  of  silver  zvith  the  dove, 
crozvned  zvith  an  earl's  coronet.     Collars  of  SS. 

7.  Duke  of  Suifolk  in  his  robe  of  estate,  his  coronet  on 

his  head,   bearing  a  long  white  wand    as  high- 

107 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.         FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

stez^'ard.  With  him,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  zvith 
the  rod  of  marshalship,  a  coronet  on  his  head. 
Collars  of  SS. 

8.  A  canopy  borne  by  four  of  the  Cinque-ports ;   under  it, 

the  Queen  in  her  robe ;  in  her  hair  richly  adorned 
zdth  pearl,  crowned.  On  each  side  her,  the 
Bishops  of  London  and  Winchester. 

9.  The  old  Duchess  of  Norfolk,  in  a  coronal  of  gold, 

wrought  zvith  Hozvers,  bearing  the  Queen  s  train. 

10.  Certain  Ladies  or  Countesses,  zvith  plain  circlets  of 

gold  zvithout  Hozvers. 

They  pass  over  the  stage  in  order  and  state. 

Sec.  Gent.  A  royal  train,  believe  me.     These  I  know : 

Who  's  that  that  bears  the  sceptre  ? 
First  Gent.  Marquess  Dorset : 

And  that  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  with  the  rod. 
Sec.  Gent.  A  bold  brave  gentleman.     That  should  be    40 

The  Duke  of  Suffolk? 
First  Gent.  'Tis  the  same  :   high-steward. 

Sec.  Gent.  And  that  my  Lord  of  Norfolk? 
First  Gent.  Yes. 

Sec.  Gent.      [Looking  on  the  Queen]  Heaven  bless  thee! 

Thou  hast  the  sweetest  face  I  ever  look'd  on. 

Sir,  as  I  have  a  soul,  she  is  an  angel ; 

Our  king  has  all  the  Indies  in  his  arms. 

And  more  and  richer,  when  he  strains  that  lady : 

I  cannot  blame  his  conscience. 
First  Gent.  They  that  bear 

The  cloth  of  honour  over  her,  are  four  barons 

Of  the  Cinque-ports. 
Sec.  Gent.  Those  men  are  happy ;   and  so  are  all  are  near 
her.  50 

108 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.         Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

I  take  it,  she  that  carries  up  the  train 
Is  that  old  noble  lady,  Duchess  of  Norfolk. 
First  Gent.  It  is ;  and  all  the  rest  are  countesses. 
Sec.  Gent.  Their  coronets  say  so.     These  are  stars  indeed, 

And  sometimes  falling  ones. 
First  Gent.  No  more  of  that. 

[Exit  procession;   and  then  a  great 
flourish  of  trumpets. 

Enter  a  third  Gentleman. 
God  save  you,  sir !   where  have  you  been  broiling  ? 

Third  Gent.  Among  the  crowd  i'  the  abbey  ;  where  a  finger 
Could  not  be  wedged  in  more :   I  am  stifled 
With  the  mere  rankness  of  their  joy. 

Sec.  Gent.  "^^^  saw 

The  ceremony  ? 

Third  Gent.  That  I  did. 

First  Gent.  How  was  it?  60 

Third  Gent.  Well  worth  the  seeing. 

Sec.  Gent.  Good  sir,  speak  it  to  us. 

Third  Gent.  As  well  as  I  am  able.     The  rich  stream 
Of  lords  and  ladies,  having  brought  the  queen 
To  a  prepared  place  in  the  choir,  fell  off 
A  distance  from  her ;   while  her  grace  sat  down 
To  rest  awhile,  some  half  an  hour  or  so, 
In  a  rich  chair  of  state,  opposing  freely 
The  beauty  of  her  person  to  the  people. 
Believe  me,  sir,  she  is  the  goodliest  woman 
That  ever  lay  by  man  :   which  when  the  people      70 
Had  the  full  view  of,  such  a  noise  arose 
As  the  shrouds  make  at  sea  in  a  stiff  tempest. 
As  loud  and  to  as  many  tunes :  hats,  cloaks,— 
109 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.         FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Doublets,  I  think, — flew  up ;   and  had  their  faces 
Been  loose,  this  day  they  had  been  lost.     Such  joy 
I  never  saw  before.     Great-bellied  women, 
That  had  not  half  a  week  to  go,  like  rams 
In  the  old  time  of  war,  would  shake  the  press. 
And  make  'em  reel  before  'em.     Xo  man  living 
Could  say  '  This  is  my  wife  '  there,  all  were  woven 
So  strangely  in  one  piece. 

Sec.  Gent.  But  \A;hat  follow'd  ?  8i 

Third  Gent.  At  length  her  grace  rose,  and  with  modest 
paces 
Came  to  the  altar,  where  she  kneel'd  and  saintlike 
Cast  her  fair  eyes  to  heaven  and  pray'd  devoutly ; 
Then  rose  again  and  bow'd  her  to  the  people ; 
When  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
She  had  all  the  royal  makings  of  a  queen, 
As  holy  oil,  Edward  Confessor's  crown, 
The  rod,  and  bird  of  peace,  and  all  such  emblems 
Laid  nobly  on  her :   which  perform'd,  the  choir,      90 
With  all  the  choicest  music  of  the  kingdom. 
Together  sung  '  Te  Deum.'     So  she  parted. 
And  with  the  same  full  state  paced  back  again 
To  York-place,  where  the  feast  is  held. 

First  Gent.  Sir, 

You  must  no  more  call  it  York-place  ;   that  's  past ; 
For,  since  the  cardinal  fell,  that  title  's  lost : 
Tis  now  the  king's,  and  call'd  Whitehall. 

Third  Gent.  I  know  it; 

But  'tis  so  lately  alter'd,  that  the  old  name 
Is  fresh  about  me.     . 

Sec.  Gent.  \A^hat  two  reverend  bishops 

Were  those  that  went  on  each  side  of  the  queen  ?    100 
no 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  IV.  Sc,  ii 

Third  Gent.  Stokeslyand  Gardiner  ;  the  one  of  Winchester, 
Newly  preferr'd  from  the  king's  secretary, 
The  otlier,  London. 

Sec.  Gent.  He  of  Wincliester 

Is  held  no  great  good  lover  of  the  archbishop's, 
The  virtuous  Cranmer. 

Third  Gent.  AH  the  land  knows  that: 

However,  yet  there  is  no  great  breach  ;  when  it  comes, 
Cranmer  will  find  a  friend  will  not  shrink  from  him. 

Sec.  Gent.  Who  may  that  be,  I  pray  you? 

Third  Gent.  Thomas  Cromwell ; 

A  man  in  much  esteem  with  the  king,  and  truly 
A  worthy  friend.    The  king  has  made  him  master 
O'  the  j  ewel  house,  m 

And  one,  already,  of  the  privy  council. 

Sec.  Gent.  He  will  deserve  more. 

Third  Gent.  Yes,  without  all  doubt. 

Come,  gentlemen,  ye  shall  go  my  way. 
Which   is  to  the  court,   and  there  ye  shall  be  my 

guests : 
Something  I  can  command.    As  I  walk  thither, 
I  '11  tell  ye  more. 

Both.  You  may  command  us,  sir.     [Exeunt. 

Scene  II. 

Kimholton. 

Enter  Katharine,  Dowager,  sick:    led  between  Griffith 
her  Gentleman-Usher,  and  Patience,  her  woman. 

Grif.  How  does  your  grace? 

Kath.  O  Griffith,  sick  to  death  ! 

My  legs,  like  loaden  branches,  bow  to  the  earth, 
III 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Willing  to  leave  their  burthen.    Reach  a  chair. 
So ;  now,  methinks,  I  feel  a  little  ease. 
Didst  thou  not  tell  me,  Griffith,  as  thou  led  'st  me, 
That  the  great  child  of  honour.  Cardinal  Wolsey, 
Was  dead? 

Grif.  Yes,  madam  ;  but  I  think  your  grace. 

Out  of  the  pain  you  suffer'd,  gave  no  ear  to  't. 

Kath.  Prithee,  good  Griffith,  tell  me  how  he  died : 

If  well,  he  stepp'd  before  me,  happily,  lo 

For  my  example. 

Grif.  Well,  the  voice  goes,  madam : 

For  after  the  stout  Earl  Northumberland 
Arrested  him  at  York,  and  brought  him  forward, 
As  a  man  sorely  tainted,  to  his  answer. 
He  fell  sick  suddenly,  and  grew  so  ill 
He  could  not  sit  his  mule. 

Kath.  Alas,  poor  man ! 

Grif.  At  last,  with  easy  roads,  he  came  to  Leicester, 
Lodged  in  the  abbey ;  where  the  reverend  abbot. 
With  all  his  covent,  honourably  received  him ; 
To  whom  he  gave  these  words,  '  O  father  abbot,    20 
An  old  man,  broken  with  the  storms  of  state. 
Is  come  to  lay  his  weary  bones  among  ye ; 
Give  him  a  little  earth  for  charity !  ' 
So  went  to  bed ;    where  eagerly  his  sickness 
Pursued  him  still ;  and  three  nights  after  this. 
About  the  hour  of  eight,  which  he  himself 
Foretold  should  be  his  last,  full  of  repentance, 
Continual  meditations,  tears  and  sorrows, 
He  gave  his  honours  to  the  world  again. 
His  blessed  part  to  heaven,  and  slept  in  peace.         30 

Kath.  So  may  he  rest ;  his  faults  lie  gently  on  him ! 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.         Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

Yet  thus  far,  Griffith,  give  me  leave  to  speak  him, 
And  yet  with  charity.     He  was  a  man 
Of  an  unbounded  stomach,  ever  ranking 
Himself  with  princes ;   one  that  by  suggestion 
Tied  all  the  kingdom :    simony  was  fair-play : 
His  own  opinion  was  his  law :    i'  the  presence 
He  would  say  untruths,  and  be  ever  double 
Both  in  his  words  and  meaning :   he  was  never. 
But  where  he  meant  to  ruin,  pitiful ;  40 

His  promises  were,  as  he  then  was,  mighty ; 
But  his  performance,  as  he  is  now,  nothing: 
Of  his  own  body  he  was  ill,  and  gave 
The  clergy  ill  example. 
Grif.  Xoble  madam. 

Men's  evil  manners  live  in  brass  ;   their  virtues 
We  write  in  water.     May  it  please  your  highness 
To  hear  me  speak  his  good  now  ? 
Kath.  Yes,  good  Griffith; 

I  were  malicious  else. 
Qrif^  This  cardinal. 

Though  from  an  humble  stock,  undoubtedly 
Was  fashion'd  to  much  honour  from  his  cradle.        50 
He  was  a  scholar,  and  a  ripe  and  good  one ; 
Exceeding  wise,  fair-spoken  and  persuading: 
Lofty  and  sour  to  them  that  loved  him  not. 
But  to  those  men  that  sought  him,  sweet  as  summer. 
And  though  he  were  unsatisfied  in  getting. 
Which  was  a  sin,  yet  in  bestowing,  madam, 
He  was  most  princely  :  ever  witness  for  him 
Those  twins  of  learning  that  he  raised  in  you, 
Ipswich  and  Oxford !  one  of  which  fell  with  him 
Unwilling  to  outlive  the  good  that  did  it ;  60 

113 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

The  other,  though  unfinished,  yet  so  famous, 
So  excellent  in  art  and  still  so  rising, 
That  Christendom  shall  ever  speak  his  virtue. 
His  overthrow  heap'd  happiness  upon  him ; 
For  then,  and  not  till  then,  he  felt  himself, 
And  found  the  blessedness  of  being  little : 
And,  to  add  greater  honours  to  his  age 
Than  man  could  give  him,  he  died  fearing  God. 

Kath.  After  my  death  I  wish  no  other  herald, 

No  other  speaker  of  my  living  actions,  70 

To  keep  mine  honour  from  corruption. 

But  such  an  honest  chronicler  as  Griffith. 

Whom  I  most  hated  living,  thou  hast  made  me, 

With  thy  religious  truth  and  modesty. 

Now  in  his  ashes  honour :   peace  be  with  him ! 

Patience,  be  near  me  still ;  and  set  me  lower : 

I  have  not  long  to  trouble  thee.     Good  Griffith, 

Cause  the  musicians  play  me  that  sad  note 

I  natned  my  knell,  whilst  I  sit  meditating 

On  that  celestial  harmony  I  go  to. 

[Sad  and  solemn  music. 

Grif.  She  is  asleep:   good  wench,  let 's  sit  down  quiet,  81 
For  fear  we  wake  her :   softly,  gentle  Patience. 

The  vision.  Enter,  solemnly  tripping  one  after  another, 
six  personages,  clad  in  white  robes,  zvearing  on  their 
heads  garlands  of  bays,  and  golden  visards  on  their 
faces;  branches  of  bays  or  palm  in  their  hands. 
They  first  congee  unto  her,  then  dance;  and,  at  cer- 
tain changes,  the  first  tzvo  hold  a  spare  garland  over 
her  head;  at  which  the  other  four  make  reverent 
curtsies;  then  the  two  that  held  the  garland  deliver 
the  same  to  the  other  next  two,  zvho  observe  the  same 
114 


LIFE  Of  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

order  in  their  changes,  and  holding  the  garland  over 
her  head:  which  done,  they  deliver  the  same  garland 
to  the  last  two,  zvho  likewise  observe  the  same  order: 
at  which,  as  it  were  by  inspiration,  she  makes  in  her 
sleep  signs  of  rejoicing,  and  holdeth  up  her  hands  to 
heaven:  and  so  in  their  dancing  -vanish,  carrying  the 
garland  with  thcui.     The  music  continues. 

Kath.  Spirits  of  peace,  where  are  ye?   are  ye  all  gone, 

And  leave  me  here  in  wretchedness  behind  ye  ? 
Grif.  Madam,  we  are  here. 

Kath.  It  is  not  you  I  call  for : 

Saw  ye  none  enter  since  I  slept? 

Qyif^  None,  madam. 

Kath.  No  ?     Saw  you  not  even  now  a  blessed  troop 
Invite  me  to  a  banquet,  whose  bright  faces 
Cast  thousand  beams  upon  me,  like  the  sun  ? 
They  promised  me  eternal  happiness,  90 

And  brought  me  garlands,  Griffith,  which  I  feel 
I  am  not  worthy  yet  to  wear :  I  shall,  assuredly. 

Grif.  I  am  most  joyful,  madam,  such  good  dreams 
Possess  your  fancy. 

Kath.  P.id  the  music  leave  ; 

They  are  harsh  and  heavy  to  me.  [Music  ceases. 

p^f^  Do  you  note 

How  much  her  grace  is  alter'd  on  the  sudden? 
How  lon.c^  her  face  is  drawn !   how  pale  she  looks, 
And  of  an  earthy  cold!     Mark  her  eyes! 

Grif.   She  is  going,  wench :  pray,  pray. 

PQf^  Heaven  comfort  her! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  An  't  like  your  grace, — 

115 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Kath.  You  are  a  saucy  fellow  :  loo 

Deserve  we  no  more  reverence? 

Grif.  You  are  to  blame, 

Knowing  she  will  not  lose  her  wonted  greatness, 
To  use  so  rude  behaviour :   go  to,  kneel. 

Mess,  I  humbly  do  entreat  your  highness'  pardon  ; 

My  haste  made  me  unmannerly.     There  is  staying 
A  gentleman,  sent  from  the  king,  to  see  you. 

Kath.  Admit  him  entrance,  Griffith :   but  this  fellow 
Let  me  ne'er  see  again. 

[Exeunt  Griffith  and  Messenger. 

Re-enter  Griffith,  with  Capucins. 

If  my  sight  fail  not, 
You  should  be  lord  ambassador  from  the  emperor, 
My  royal  nephew,  and  your  name  Capucius.  no 

Cap.  Madam,  the  same :  your  servant. 

Kath.  O,  my  lord. 

The  times  and  titles  now  are  alter'd  strangely 
With  me  since  first  you  knew  me.     But,  I  pray  you, 
What  is  your  pleasure  with  me? 

Cap.  Noble  lady, 

First,  mine  ow^n  service  to  your  grace ;   the  next, 
The  king's  request  that  I  would  visit  you ; 
Who  grieves  much  for  your  w^eakness,  and  by  me 
Sends  you  his  princely  commendations. 
And  heartily  entreats  you  take  good  comfort. 

Kath.  O  my  good  lord,  that  comfort  comes  too  late ;    120 
'Tis  like  a  pardon  after  execution : 
That  gentle  physic,  given  In  time,  had  cured  me ; 
But  now  I  am  past  all  comforts  here  but  prayers. 
How  does  his  highness  ? 

Cap.  Madam,  in  good  health. 

116 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

Kath.  So  may  he  ever  do !  and  ever  flourish, 

When  I  shall  dvveU  with  worms,  and  my  poor  name 
Banish'd  the  kingdom !     Patience,  is  that  letter, 
I  caused  you  write,  yet  sent  away  ? 

p^f^  Xo,  madam. 

[Giving  it  to  Katharine. 

Kath.  Sir,  I  most  humbly  pray  you  to  deliver 
This  to  my  lord  the  king. 

Cap.  Most  willing,  madam.     130 

Kath.  In  which  I  have  commended  to  his  goodness 

The  model  of  our  chaste  loves,  his  young  daughter, — 
The  dews  of  heaven  fall  thick  in  blessings  on  her  !— 
Beseeching  him  to  give  her  virtuous  breeding — 
She  is  young  and  of  a  noble  modest  nature : 
I  hope  she  will  deserve  well — and  a  little 
To  love  her  for  her  mother's  sake,  that  loved  him. 
Heaven  knows  how  dearly.    My  next  poor  petition 
Is  that  his  noble  grace  would  have  some  pity 
Upon  my  wretched  women,  that  so  long  140 

Have  follow 'd  both  my  fortunes  faithfully : 
Of  which  there  is  not  one,  I  dare  avow,— 
And  now  I  should  not  lie— but  will  deserve, 
For  virtue  and  true  beauty  of  the  soul, 
For  honesty  and  decent  carriage, 
A  right  good  husband,  let  him  be  a  noble : 
And,  sure,  those  men  are  happy  that  shall  have  'em. 
The  last  is,  for  my  men  ;  they  are  the  poorest, 
But  poverty  could  never  draw  'em  from  me ; 
That  they  may  have  their  wages  duly  paid  'em,     150 
And  something  over  to  remember  me  by  : 
If  heaven  had  pleased  to  have  given  me  longer  life 
And  able  means,  we  had  not  parted  thus. 
117 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

These  are  the  whole  contents  :  and,  good  my  lord, 
By  that  you  love  the  dearest  in  this  world, 
As  you  wish  Christian  peace  to  souls  departed, 
Stand  these  poor  people's  friend,  and  urge  the  king 
To  do  me  this  last  right. 

Cap.  By  heaven,  I  will, 

Or  let  me  lose  the  fashion  of  a  man  ! 

Kath.  I  thank  you,  honest  lord.    Remember  me  i6o 

In  all  humility  unto  his  highness  : 
Say  his  long  trouble  now  is  passing 
Out  of  this  world ;  tell  him,  in  death  I  bless'd  him. 
For  so  I  will.    INIine  eyes  grow  dim.    Farewell, 
My  lord.     Griffith,  farewell.     Nay,  Patience, 
You  must  not  leave  me  yet :  I  must  to  bed  ; 
Call  in  more  women.    When  I  am  dead,  good  wench, 
Let  me  be  used  with  honour :  strew  me  over 
With  maiden  flow^ers,  that  all  the  world  may  know 
I  was  a  chaste  wife  to  my  grave:   embalm  me,       170 
Then  lay  me  forth  ;  although  unqueen'd,  yet  like 
A  queen,  and  daughter  to  a  king,  inter  me. 
I  can  no  more.  \ Exeunt,  leading  Katharine. 

ACT  FIFTH. 
Scene  I. 

London.    A  gallery  in  the  palace. 

Enter  Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  a  Page  with  a 
torch  before  him,  met  by  Sir  Thomas  Lovell. 

Gar.  It 's  one  o'clock,  boy,  is  't  not? 
Boy.  It  hath  struck. 

Gar.  These  should  be  hours  for  necessities, 

118 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Not  for  delights ;  times  to  repair  our  nature 

With  comforting  repose,  and  not  for  us 

To   waste  these   times.      Good   hour   of   night,    Sir 

Thomas ! 
Whither  so  late? 

Lov.  Came  you  from  the  king,  my  lord  ? 

Gar.  I  did,  Sir  Thomas,  and  left  him  at  primero 
With  the  Duke  of  Suffolk. 

Lov.  I  must  to  him  too. 

Before  he  go  to  bed.    I  '11  take  my  leave. 

Gar.  Not  yet,  Sir  Thomas  Lovell.    What 's  the  matter  > 
It  seems  you  are  in  haste  :   an  if  there  be  1 1 

No  great  offence  belongs  to  't,  give  your  friend 
Some  touch  of  your  late  business  :  affairs  that  walk. 
As  they  say  spirits  do,  at  midnight,  have 
In  them  a  wilder  nature  than  the  business 
That  seeks  dispatch  by  day. 

Lov.  ^ly  lord,  I  love  you  ; 

And  durst  commend  a  secret  to  your  ear 
Much   weightier  than   this   work.      The   queen's   in 

labour, 
They  say,  in  grea't  extremity ;  and  fear'd 
She  'II  with  the  labour  end. 

Gar.  The  fruit  she  goes  with  20 

I  pray  for  heartily,  that  it  may  find 
Good  time,  and  live  :  but  for  the  stock.  Sir  Thomas, 
I  wish  it  grubb'd  up  now. 

Lov.  Alethinks  I  could 

Cry  the  amen  ;   and  yet  my  conscience  says 
She  's  a  good  creature,  and,  sweet  lady,  does 
Deserve  our  better  wishes. 

Gar.  But,  sir,  sir, 

119 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Hear  me,  Sir  Thomas :   you  're  a  gentleman 

Of  mine  own  way ;   I  know  you  wise,  religious  ; 

And,  let  me  tell  you,  it  will  ne'er  be  well, 

'Twill  not.  Sir  Thomas  Lovell,  take  't  of  me,  30 

Till  Cranmer,  Cromwell,  her  two  hands,  and  she. 

Sleep  in  their  graves. 

Loi'.  Xow,  sir,  you  speak  of  two 

The  most  remarked  i'  the  kingdom.   As  for  Cromwell, 
Beside  that  of  the  jewel  house,  is  made  master 
O'  the  rolls,  and  the  king's  secretary ;   further,  sir, 
Stands  in  the  gap  and  trade  of  moe  preferments, 
With  which  the  time  will  load  him.    The  archbishop 
Is  the  king's  hand  and  tongue ;  and  who  dare  speak 
One  syllable  against  him  ? 

Gar.  Yes,  yes,  Sir  Thomas, 

There  are  that  dare  ;  and  I  myself  have  ventured     40 

To  speak  my  mind  of  him :  and  indeed  this  day, 

Sir,  I  may  tell  it  you,  I  think  I  have 

Incensed  the  lords  o'  the  council  that  he  is — 

For  so  I  know^  he  is,  they  know  he  is — 

A  most  arch-heretic,  a  pestilence 

That  does  infect  the  land :  with  which  they  moved 

Have  broken  with  the  king ;  who  hath  so  far 

Given  ear  to  our  complaint,  of  his  great  grace 

And  princely  care  foreseeing  those  fell  mischiefs 

Our  reasons  laid  before  him,  hath  commanded         50 

To-morrow  morning  to  the  council-board 

He  be  convented.    He  's  a  rank  weed,  Sir  Thomas, 

And  we  must  root  him  out.    From  your  affairs 

I  hinder  you  too  long:    good  night.  Sir  Thomas. 

Lov.  Many  good  nights,  my  lord :    I  rest  your  servant. 

{Exeunt  Gardiner  and  Page. 
120 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Enter  King  and  Suffolk. 

King.  Charles,  I  will  play  no  more  to-night ; 

My  mind  's  not  on  't ;  you  are  too  hard  for  me. 
Siif.  Sir,  I  did  never  win  of  you  before. 
King.  But  little,  Charles, 

Nor  shall  not,  when  my  fancy  's  on  my  play.  60 

Now%  Lovell,  from  the  queen  what  is  the  news  ? 
Lov.  I  could  not  personally  deliver  to  her 

What  you  commanded  me,  but  by  her  woman 

I  sent  your  message ;  who  return'd  her  thanks 

In  the  greatest  humbleness,  and  desired  your  highness 

Most  heartily  to  pray  for  her. 
King.  What  say'st  thou,  ha? 

To  pray  for  her  ?  what,  is  she  crying  out  ? 
Loz\  So  said  her  woman,  and  that  her  sufferance  made 

Almost  each  pang  a  death. 
King.  Alas,  good  lady  ' 

Siif.  God  safely  quit  her  of  her  burthen,  and  70 

With  gentle  travail,  to  the  gladding  of 

Your  highness  with  an  heir  ! 
King.  'Tis  midnight,  Charles  ; 

Prithee,  to  bed  ;  and  in  thy  prayers  remember 

The  estate  of  my  poor  queen.    Leave  me  alone ; 

For  I  must  think  of  that  which  company 

Would  not  be  friendly  to. 
Suf.  I  wish  your  highness 

A  quiet  night,  and  my  good  mistress  w^ill 

Remember  in  my  prayers. 
King.  Charles,  good  night.    [Exit  Suffolk, 

Enter  Sir  Anthony  Denny. 

Well,  sir,  what  follows? 
121 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Den.  Sir,  I  have  brought  my  lord  the  archbishop,  8© 

As  yon  commanded  me. 
King.  Ha!  Canterbury? 

Den.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

King.  'Tis  true :  where  is  he,  Denny  ? 

Den.  He  attends  your  highness'  pleasure. 
King.  Bring  him  to  us. 

[Exit  Denny. 
Lov.    [Aside]   This  is  about  that  which  the  bishop  spake: 

I  am  happily  come  hither. 

Re-enier  Denny,  with  Cranmer. 

King.  Avoid  the  gallery.      [Loz'ell seems  to  stay.]     Ha!  I 
have  said.     Be  gone. 

What !  [Exeunt  Eovell  and  Denny. 

Cran.    [Aside]   I  am  fearful:   wherefore  frowns  he  thus? 

'Tis  his  aspect  of  terror.    All 's  not  well. 
King.  How  now,  my  lord !   you  do  desire  to  know 

Wherefore  I  sent  for  you. 
Cran.    [Kneeling]  It  is  my  duty  90 

To  attend  your  highness'  pleasure. 
King.  Pray  you,  arise, 

My  good  and  gracicnis  Lord  of  Canterbury. 

Come,  you  and  I  must  walk  a  turn  together ; 

{  have  news  to  tell  you :    come,  come,  give  me  your 
hand. 

Ah,  my  good  lord,  I  grieve  at  what  I  speak, 

And  am  right  sorry  to  repeat  what  follows : 

I  have,  and  most  unwillingly,  of  late 

Heard  many  grievous,  I  do  say,  my  lord, 

Grievous  complaints  of  you  :  which,  being  consider'd. 

Have  moved  us  and  our  council,  that  vou  shall       loo 


LIFE  or  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

This  morning  come  before  us ;  'where,  I  know, 
You  cannot  with  such  freedom  purge  yourself, 
But  that,  till  further  trial  in  those  charges 
Which  will  require  your  answer,  you  must  take 
Your  patience  to  you  and  be  well  contented 
To  make  your  house  our  Tower :  you  a  brother  of  us, 
It  fits  we  thus  proceed,  or  else  no  witness 
\^'ould  come  against  you. 

Cran.    [Kneeling]  I  humbly  thank  your  highness; 

And  am  right  glad  to  catch  this  good  occasion. 
Most  throughly  to  be  winnow'd,  where  my  chaff  no 
And  corn  shall  fly  asunder  :  for,  I  know, 
There  's  none  stands  under  more  calumnious  tongues 
Than  I  myself,  poor  man. 

King.  Stand  up,  good  Canterbury  : 

Thy  truth,  and  thy  integrity  is  rooted 
In  us,  thy  friend :  give  me  thy  hand,  stand  up : 
Prithee,  let  's  walk.     Xow,  by  my  holidame, 
What  manner  of  man  are  you  ?     My  lord,  I  look'd 
You  would  have  given  me  your  petition,  that 
I  should  have  ta'en  some  pains  to  bring  together 
Yourself  and  your  accusers,  and  to  have  heard  you, 
Without  indurance  further. 

Cran.  ]\Iost  dread  liege,  121 

The  good  I  stand  on  is  my  truth  and  honesty : 
If  they  shall  fail,  I,  with  mine  enemies. 
Will  triumph  o'er  my  person ;  which  I  weigh  not, 
Being  of  those  virtues  vacant.    I  fear  nothing 
\Vhat  can  be  said  against  me. 

King.  Know  you  not 

How  your  state  stands  i'  the  world,  with  the  whole  world  ? 
Your  enemies  are  many,  and  not  small ;  their  practices 

123 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Must  bear  the  same  proportion  ;  and  not  ever 
The  justice  and  the  truth  o'  the  question  carries     130 
The  due  o'  the  verdict  with  it :   at  what  ease 
Might  corrupt  minds  procure  knaves  as  corrupt 
To  swear  against  you  ?    Such  things  have  been  done. 
You  are  potently  opposed,  and  with  a  mahce 
Of  as  great  size.    Ween  you  of  better  kick, 
I  mean,  in  perjured  witness,  than  your  master, 
Whose  minister  you  are,  whiles  here  he  lived 
Upon  this  naughty  eartli  ?    Go  to,  go  to  ; 
You  take  a  precipice  for  no  leap  of  danger. 
And  woo  your  own  destruction. 

Cran.  God  and  your  majesty 

Protect  mine  innocence,  or  I  fall  into  141 

The  trap  is  laid  for  me ! 

King.  Be  of  good  cheer ; 

They  shall  no  more  prevail  than  we  give  way  to. 

Keep  comfort  to  you  ;  and  this  morning  see 

You  do  appear  before  them.    If  they  shall  chance, 

In  charging  you  w4tli  matters,  to  commit  you. 

The  best  persuasions  to  the  contrary 

Fail  not  to  use,  and  with  what  vehemency 

The  occasion  shall  instruct  you  :    if  entreaties 

Will  render  you  no  remedy,  this  ring  150 

Deliver  them.,  and  your  appeal  to  us 

There  make  before  them.  Look,  the  good  man  weeps  ! 

He  's  honest,  on  mine  honour.    God's  blest  mother ! 

I  swear  he  is  true-hearted,  and  a  soul 

None  better  in  my  kingdom.     Get  you  gone. 

And  do  as  I  have  bid  you.     [Exit  Cranmer.]     He  has 

strangled 
His  language  in  his  tears. 
124 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Enter  Old  Lady;  Lovell  following. 
Gent.  [Within]   Comeback:  what  mean  you  ? 

Old  L.  I  '11  not  come  back  ;  the  tidings  that  I  bring 

Will    make    my    boldness     manners.     Now,     good 
angels 

Fly  o'er  thy  royal  head,  and  shade  thy  person        i6o 

Under  their  blessed  wings  ! 
King.  Now,  by  thy  looks 

I  guess  thy  message.     Is  the  queen  deliver'd? 

Say,  ay,  and  of  a  boy. 
Old  L.  Ay,  ay,  my  liege ; 

And  of  a  lovely  boy :   the  God  of  heaven 

Both  now  and  ever  bless  her !   'tis  a  girl, 

Promises  boys  hereafter.     Sir,  your  queen 

Desires  your  visitation,  and  to  be 

Acquainted  with  this  stranger :   'tis  as  like  you 

As  cherry  is  to  cherry. 
King.  Lovell ! 

Lov.  Sir?  169 

King.  Give  her  an  hundred  marks.    I  '11  to  the  queen. 

[Exit. 

OldL.  An    hundred    marks!      By    this    Hght,    I'll    ha' 
more. 
An  ordinary  groom  is  for  such  payment. 
I  will  have  more,  or  scold  it  out  of  him. 
Said  I  for  this,  the  girl  was  like  to  him? 
I  will  have  more,  or  else  unsay  't ;  and  now, 
While  it  is  hot,  I  '11  put  it  to  the  issue.  [Exeunt. 


MS 


Act  V.  Sc.  ii.         FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Scene  II. 

Before  the  coujicil-chamber. 

Pursuivants,  Pages,  etc.,  attending. 

Enter  Crannicr,  ArchbisJwp  of  Canterbury. 

Cran.  I  hope  I  am  not  too  late ;  and  yet  the  gentleman 
That  was  sent  to  me  from  the  council  pray'd  me 
To  make  great  haste.  All  fast  ?  what  means  this  ?  Ho ! 
Who  waits  there  ?    Sure,  you  know  me  ? 

Enter  Keeper. 

Keep.  Yes,  my  lord; 

But  yet  I  cannot  help  you., 
Cran.  Why? 

Enter  Doctor  Butts. 

Keep.  Your  grace  must  wait  till  you  be  call'd  for. 

Cran.  So. 

Butts.    [Aside]  This  is  a  piece  of  malice.    I  am  glad 
I  came  this  way  so  happily :  the  king 
Shall  understand  it  presently.  [Exit. 

Cran.  [Aside]  Tis  Butts,  lo 

The  king's  physician  :  as  he  pass'd  along, 
How  earnestly  he  cast  his  eyes  upon  me ! 
Pray  heaven,  he  sound  not  my  disgrace  !    For  certain, 
This  is  of  purpose  laid  by  some  that  hate  me— 
God  turn  their  hearts !    I  never  sought  their  malice — 
To  quench  mine  honour :  they  would  shame  to  make 

me 
\\'ait  else  at  door,  a  fellow-councillor, 
'Mong  boys,  grooms  and  lackeys.     But  their  pleasures 
Must  be  fulfill'd,  and  I  attend  with  patience. 

126 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  V.  Sc.  Hi. 

Enter  the  King  and  But  is  at  a  z\.'indow  above. 
Butts.   I  '11  show  your  grace  the  strangest  sight — 
King.  What  's  that,  Butts  ?  20 

Butts.   I  think  your  highness  saw  this  many  a  day. 
King.   Body  o'  me,  where  is  it  ? 
Butts.  There,  my  lord  : 

The  high  promotion  of  his  grace  of  Canterbury; 
Who  holds  his  state  at  door,  'mongst  pursuivants, 
Pages  and  footboys. 
King.  Ha  !  'tis  he,  indeed  : 

Is  this  the  honour  they  do  one  another  ? 
'Tis  well  there  's  one  above  'em  yet.    I  had  thought 
They  had  parted  so  much  honesty  among  'em, 
At  least  good  manners,  as  not  thus  to  suffer 
A  man  of  his  place  and  so  near  our  favour  30 

To  dance  attendance  on  their  lordships'  pleasures. 
And  at  the  door  too,  like  a  post  with  packets. 
By  holy  Mary,  Butts,  there  's  knavery : 
Let  'em  alone,  and  draw  the  curtain  close ; 
We  shall  hear  more  anon.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  III. 

The  council-chamber. 

Enter  Lord  Chancellor,  places  Jiinisclf  at  the  upper  end  of 
the  table  on  the  left  hand;  a  seat  being  left  void  above 
him,  as  for  Canterbury's  seat ;  Duke  of  Suffolk,  Duke 
of  Norfolk,  Surrey,  Lord  Chamberlain,  Gardiner,  seat 
themselves  in  order  on  each  side.  Cronnvell  at  lower 
end,  as  secretary.    Keeper  at  the  door. 

Chan.  Speak  to  the  business,  master  secretary: 
Why  are  we  met  in  council  ? 

127 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Croiii.  Please  your  honours, 

The  chief  cause  concerns  his  grace  of  Canterbury. 

Gar.  Has  he  had  knowledge  of  it  ? 

Crom.  Yes. 

Nor.  Who  waits  there  ? 

Keep.  Without,  my  noble  lords  ? 

Gar.  Yes. 

Keep.  My  lord  archbishop ; 

And  has  done  half  an  hour,  to  know  your  pleasures. 

Chan.  Let  him  come  in. 

Keep.  Your  grace  may  enter  now. 

[Craiunei'  enters  and  approaches  the  council-table. 

Chan,  yiy  good  lord  archbishop,  I  'm  very  sorry 
To  sit  here  at  this  present  and  behold 
That  chair  stand  empty :   but  we  all  are  men,  lo 

In  our  own  natures  frail  and  capable 
Of  our  flesh  ;   few  are  angels :  out  of  which  frailty 
And  want  of  wisdom,  you,  that  best  should  teach  us, 
Have  misdemean'd  yourself,  and  not  a  little, 
Toward  the  king  first,  then  his  laws,  in  filling 
The  whole  realm,  by  your  teaching  and  your  chap- 
lains,— 
For  so  we  are  informed, — with  new  opinions. 
Divers  and  dangerous  ;  which  are  heresies. 
And,  not  reform'd,  may  prove  pernicious. 

Gar.  Which  reformation  must  be  sudden  too,  20 

My  noble  lords  ;  for  those  that  tame  wild  horses 
Pace  'em  not  in  their  hands  to  make  'em  gentle, 
But  stop  their  mouths  with  stubborn  bits  and  spur  'em, 
Till  they  obey  the  manage.    If  we  suffer. 
Out  of  our  easiness  and  childish  pity 
To  one  man's  honour,  this  contagious  sickness, 

128 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.         Act  V.  Sc.  iii. 

Farewell  all  physic :    and  what  follows  then  ? 
Commotions,  uproars,  with  a  general  taint 
Of  the  whole  state  :  as  of  late  days  our  neighbours, 
The  upper  Germany,  can  dearly  witness,  30 

Yet  freshly  pitied  in  our  memories. 

Crau.   My  good  lords,  hitherto,  in  all  the  progress 
Both  of  my  life  and  office,  I  have  labour'd, 
And  with  no  little  study,  that  my  teaching 
And  the  strong  course  of  my  authority 
Might  go  one  way,  and  safely ;  and  the  end 
Was  ever  to  do  well :  nor  is  there  living, 
I  speak  it  with  a  single  heart,  my  lords, 
A  man  that  more  detests,  more  stirs  against, 
Both  in  his  private  conscience  and  his  place,  40 

Defacers  of  a  public  peace,  than  I  do. 
Pray  heaven,  the  king  may  never  find  a  heart 
With  less  allegiance  in  it !    Men  that  make 
Envy  and  crooked  malice  nourishment 
Dare  bit^  the  best.    I  do  beseech  your  lordships. 
That,  in  this  case  of  justice,  my  accusers. 
Be  what  they  will,  may  stand  forth  face  to  face. 
And  freely  urge  against  me. 

Sitf.  Nay,  my  lord, 

That  cannot  be :  you  are  a  councillor. 
And,  by  that  virtue,  no  man  dare  accuse  you.  50 

Ga7\   My  lord,  because  we  have  business  of  more  moment. 
We  will  be  short  with  you.  'Tis  his  highness' pleasure, 
And  our  consent,  for  better  trial  of  you, 
From  hence  you  be  committed  to  the  Tower ; 
Where,  being  but  a  private  man  again, 
You  shall  know  many  dare  accuse  you  boldly, 
]\Iore  than,  I  fear,  you  are  provided  for. 

129 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Cran.  Ah,  my  good  Lord  of  Winchester,  I  thank  you ; 
You  are  always  my  good  friend  ;  if  your  will  pass, 
I  shall  both  f.nd  >our  lordship  judge  and  juror,        Cvr) 
You  are  so  merciful.     I  see  your  end ; 
'Tis  my  undoing.     Love  and  meekness,  lord, 
Becom.e  a  churchman  better  than  ambition  : 
Win  straying  souls  with  modesty  again. 
Cast  none  away.     That  I  shall  clear  myself, 
Lay  all  the  weight  ye  can  upon  my  patience, 
I  make  as  little  doubt  as  you  do  conscience 
In  doing  daily  wrongs.     I  could  say  more, 
But  reverence  to  your  calling  makes  me  modest. 

Gar.  My  lord,  my  lord,  you  are  a  sectary  ;  70 

That 's  the  plain  truth  :  your  painted  gloss  discovers, 
To  men  that  understand  you,  w^ords  and  weakness. 

Crom.  My  Lord  of  Winchester,  you  are  a  little. 

By  your  good  favour,  too  sharp ;  men  so  noble, 
How^ever  faulty,  yet  should  find  respect 
For  what  they  have  been :    'tis  a  cruelty 
To  load  a  falling  man. 

Gar.  Good  master  secretary, 

I  cry  your  honour  mercy ;   you  may,  worst 
Of  all  this  table,  say  so. 

Crom.  AVhy,  my  lord? 

Gar.  Do  not  I  know  you  for  a  favourer  80 

Of  this  new  sect?  ye  are  not  sound. 

Crom.  Not  sound? 

Gar.  Not  sound,  I  say. 

Crom.  Would  you  were  half  so  honest ! 

Men's  prayers  then  would  seek  you,  not  their  fears. 

Gar.  I  shall  remember  this  bold  language. 

Crom.  Do. 

130 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIIL        Act  V.  Sc.  iii. 

Remember  your  bold  life  too. 
Chan.  This  is  too  much  ; 

Forbear,  for  shame,  my  lords. 
Gar.  I  have  done. 

Croni.  And  I. 

Clian.  Then  thus  for  you,  my  lord :   it  stands  agreed, 

1  take  it,  by  all  voices,  that  forthwith 

You  be  convey'd  to  the  Tower  a  prisoner; 

There  to  remain  till  the  king's  further  pleasure         90 

Be  known  unto  us  :  are  you  all  agreed,  lords  ? 
All  We  are. 
Cran.  Is  there  no  other  way  of  mercy. 

But  I  must   needs  to  the  Tower,  my  lords  ? 
Gar,  What  other 

Would  you  expect  ?  you  are  strangely  troublesome. 

Let  some  o'  the  guard  be  ready  there. 

Enter  Guard. 

Cran.  For  me  ? 

Must  I  go  like  a  traitor  thither  ? 
Gar.  Receive  him, 

And  see  him  safe  i'  the  Tower. 
Cran.  Stay,  good  my  lords, 

I  have  a  little  yet  to  say.     Look  there,  my  lords  ; 

By  virtue  of  that  ring,  I  take  my  cause 

Out  of  the  gripes  of  cruel  men,  and  give  it  100 

To  a  most  noble  judge,  the  king  my  master. 
Chaui.  This  is  the  king's  ring. 
Sur.  'Tis  no  counterfeit. 

Siif.  ^Tis  the  right  ring,  by  heaven :   I  told  ye  all, 

When  we  first  put  this  dangerous  stone  a-roUing, 

Twould  fall  upon  ourselves. 

131 


Act  V.  Sc.  iii.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Nor.  Do  you  think,  my  lords, 

The  king  will  suffer  but  the  little  finger 

Of  this  man  to  be  vex'd? 
Cham.  'Tis  now  too  certain  : 

How  much  more  is  his  life  in  value  with  him? 

Would  I  were  fairly  out  on  't ! 
Crom.  My  mind  gave  me, 

In  seeking  tales  and  informations  no 

Against  this  man,  whose  honesty  the  devil 

And  his  disciples  only  envy  at, 

Ye  blew  the  fire  that  burns  ye :  now  have  at  ye ! 

Enter  King,  frozcning  on  them;   takes  his  seat. 

Gar.  Dread  sovereign,  how  much  are  we  bound  to  heaven 
In  daily  thanks,  that  gave  us  such  a  prince. 
Not  only  good  and  wise,  but  miost  religious : 
One  that,  in  all  obedience,  makes  the  church 
The  chief  aim  of  his  honour ;  and,  to  strengthen 
That  holy  duty,  out  of  dear  respect. 
His  royal  self  in  judgement  comes  to  hear  120 

The  cause  betwixt  her  and  this  great  ofifender. 

King.  You  were  ever  good  at  sudden  commendations, 
Bishop  of  Winchester.     But  know,  I  come  not 
To  hear  such  flattery  now,  and  in  my  presence 
They  are  too  thin  and  bare  to  hide  offences. 
To  me  you  cannot  reach  you  play  the  spaniel. 
And  think  with  wagging  of  your  tongue  to  win  me  • 
But,  whatsoe'er  thou  takest  me  for,  I  'm  sure 
Thou  hast  a  cruel  nature  and  a  bloody. 
[To  Craunier]  Good  man,  sit  down.     Now  let  me  see 
the  proudest  130 

He,  that  dares  most,  but  wag  his  finger  at  thee : 

132 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  V.  Sc.  iii. 

By  all  that 's  holy,  he  had  better  starve 
Than  but  once  think  this  place  becomes  thee  not. 
Siir.  May  it  please  your  grace, — 

Ki)ia,  No,  sir,  it  does  not  please  me. 

I  had  thought  I  had  had  men  of  sonie  understanding 
And  wisdom  of  my  council ;   but  I  find  none. 
Was  it  discretion,  lords,  to  let  this  man, 
This  good  man, — few  of  you  deserve  that  title, — 
This  honest  man,  wait  like  a  lousy  footboy 
At  chamber-door?  and  one  as  great  as  you  are?    140 
Why,  what  a  shame  was  this !    Did  my  commission 
Bid  ye  so  far  forget  yourselves  ?    I  gave  ye 
Power  as  he  was  a  councillor  to  try  him. 
Not  as  a  groom  :  there  's  some  of  ye,  I  see, 
More  out  of  malice  than  integrity. 
Would  try  him  to  the  utmost,  had  ye  mean  ; 
Which  ye  shall  never  have  while  I  live. 
Chan.  Thus  far, 

My  most  dread  sovereign,  may  it  like  your  grace 
To  let  my  tongue  excuse  all.    What  was  purposed 
Concerning  his  imprisonment,  was  rather,  150 

If  there  be  faith  in  men,  meant  for  his  trial 
And  fair  purgation  to  the  world,  than  malice, 
I  'm  sure,  in  me. 
King.  \yd\,  well,  my  lords,  respect  him ; 

•    Take  him  and  use  him  well ;  he  's  worthy  of  it. 
I  will  say  thus  much  for  him,  if  a  prince 
May  be  beholding  to  a  subject,  I 
Am,  for  his  love  and  service,  so  to  him. 
Make  me  no  more  ado,  but  all  embrace  him : 
Be    friends,    for    shame,    my    lords!      My    Lord    of 
Canterbury,  160 

133 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.         FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

I  have  a  suit  which  you  must  not  deny  me ; 
*  That  is,  a  fair  young  maid  that  yet  wants  baptism  ; 
You  must  be  godfather,  and  answer  for  her. 

Cran.  The  greatest  monarch  now  aUve  may  glory 
In  such  an  honour :   how  may  I  deserve  it. 
That  am  a  poor  and  humble  subject  to  you? 

King.  Come,  come,  my  lord,  you  'Id  spare  vour 
spoons :  you  shall  have  two  noble  partners  with 
you ;  the  old  Duchess  of  Xorfolk,  and  Lady 
Marquess  Dorset:    will  these  please  you?  170 

Once  more,  my  Lord  of  '\\^inchester,  I  charge  you 
Embrace  and  love  this  man. 

Car.  With  a  true  heart 

And  brother-love  I  do  it. 

Cran.  And  let  heaven 

Witness  how  dear  I  hold  this  confirmation. 

King.  Good  man,  those  joyful  tears  show  thy  true  heart : 
The  common  voice,  I  see,  is  verified 
Of  thee,  which  says  thus  :  '  Do  my  Lord  of  Canterbury 
A  shrewd  turn,  and  he  is  your  friend  for  ever.' 
Come,  lords,  we  trifle  time  awav  ;  I  lonsf 
To  have  this  young  one  made  a  Christian.  180 

As  T  have  made  ye  one,  lords,  one  remain  ; 
So  I  grow  stronger,  you  more  honour  gain.  [EA'cuut. 

Scene  IV. 

TJic  palace  yard. 

Noise  and  tuniidt  i^nthin.     Enter  Porter  and  his  Man. 

Fort.  You  '11  leave  your  noise  anon,  ye  rascals :  do 
you  take  the  court  for  Paris-garden?  ye  rude 
slaves,  leave  your  gaping. 

134 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Act  V.  Sc  iv. 

[Within]  '  Good  master  porter,  I  belong  to  the 
larder.' 

Port.  Belong  to  the  gallows,  and  be  hanged,  ye 
rogue !  Is  this  a  place  to  roar  in  ?  Fetch  me  a 
dozen  crab-tree  staves,  and  strong  ones :  these 
are  but  switches  to  'em.  I  '11  scratch  your  heads  : 
you  must  be  seeing  christenings?  do  you  look  for  lo 
.  ale  and  cakes  here,  you  rude  rascals  ? 

Man.  Pray,  sir,  be  patient :  'tis  as  much  impossible — 

Unless  we  sweep  'em  from  the  door  with  cannons — 

To  scatter  'em,  as  'tis  to  make  'em  sleep 

On  May-day  morning;    which  will  never -be: 

We  may  as  well  push  against  Powle's  as  stir  'em. 

Port.  How  got  they  in,  and  be  hang'd? 

Man.  Alas,  I  know  not ;   how  gets  the  tide  in  ? 
As  much  as  one  sound  cudgel  of  four  foot — 
You  see  the  poor  remainder — could  distribute,        20 
I  made  no  spare,  sir. 

Port.  You  did  nothing,  sir. 

Man,  I  am  not  Samson,  nor  Sir  Guy,  nor  Colbranc, 
To  mow  'em  down  before  me :  but  if  I  spared  any 
That  had  a  head  to  hit,  either  young  or  old. 
He  or  she,  cuckold  or  cuckold-maker. 
Let  me  ne'er  hope  to  see  a  chine  again  ; 
And  that  I  would  not  for  a  cow,  God  save  her ! 
\_Within]  'Do  you  hear,  master  porter?' 

Port.  I  shall  be  with  you,  presently,  good  master  puppy. 
Keep  the  door  close,  sirrah.  30 

Man.  What  would  you  have  me  do? 

Port.  What  should  you  do,  but  knock  'em  down  by 
the  dozens?  Is  this  ^loorfields  to  muster  in? 
or  have  we  some  strange  Indian  with  the  great 

135 


Act  V.  Sc.  iv.        FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

tool  come  to  court,  the  women  so  besiege  us? 
Bless  me,  what  a  fry  of  fornication  is  at  door! 
On  my  Christian  conscience,  this  one  christening 
will  beget  a  thousand ;  here  will  be  father,  god- 
father, and  all  together. 

Mail.  The  spoons  will  be  the  bigger,  sir.  There  is  40 
a  fellow  somewhat  near  the  door,  he  should  be 
a  brazier  by  his  face,  for,  o'  my  conscience, 
twenty  of  the  dog-days  now  reign  in  's  nose ; 
all  that  stand  about  him  are  under  the  line,  they 
need  no  other  penance :  that  fire-drake  did  I 
hit  three  times  on  the  head,  and  three  times  was 
his  nose  discharged  against  me ;  he  stands  there, 
like  a  mortar-piece,  to  blow  us.  There  was  a 
haberdasher's  w'lie  of  small  wit  near  him,  that 
railed  upon  me  till  her  pinked  porringer  fell  off  50 
her  head,  for  kindling  such  a  combustion  in  the 
state.  I  missed  the  meteor  once,  and  hit  that 
woman,  who  cried  out  '  Clubs !  '  when  I  might 
see  from  far  some  forty  truncheoners  draw  to 
her  succour,  which  were  the  hope  o'  the  Strand, 
where  she  was  quartered.  They  fell  on  ;  I  made 
good  my  place :  at  length  they  came  to  the 
broomstaff  to  me ;  I  defied  'em  still :  when 
suddenly  a  file  of  boys  behind  'em,  loose  shot, 
delivered  such  a  shower  of  pebbles,  that  I  was  60 
fain  to  draw  mine  honour  in  and  let  'em  win  the 
work  :  the  devil  was  amongst  'em,  I  think,  surely. 

Port.  These  are  the  youths  that  thunder  at  a  play- 
house and  fight  for  bitten  apples ;  that  no 
audience,  but  the  tribulation  of  Tower-hill,  or 
the    limbs    of    Limehousc,    their    dear    brothers, 

136 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.        Act  V.  Sc.  iv. 

are  able  to  endure.  I  have  some  of  'em  in 
Limbo  Patrum,  and  there  they  are  Hke  to  dance 
these  three  days  ;  besides  the  running  banquet  of 
two  beadles  that  is  to  come.  70 

Enter  Lord  Chamberlain. 

Cliam.  J\lercy  o'  me,  what  a  multitude  are  here ! 

They  grow  still  too ;   from  all  parts  they  are  coming, 
As  if  we  kept  a  fair  here.    Where  are  these  porters, 
These   lazy   knaves?     Ye   have    made   a   fine   hand, 

fellows ! 
There  's  a  trim  rabble  let  in  :  are  all  these 
Your  faithful  friends  o'  the  suburbs  ?    We  shall  have 
Great  store  of  room,  no  doubt,  left  for  the  ladies, 
When  they  pass  back  from  the  christening. 

Port.  An  't  please  your  honour, 

We  are  but  men  ;  and  what  so  many  may  do, 
Not  being  torn  a-pieces,  we  have  done :  80 

An  army  cannot  rule  'em. 

Cham.  As  I  live, 

If  the  king  blame  me  for  't,  I  '11  lay  ye  all 

By  the  heels,  and  suddenly ;   and  on  your  heads 

Clap  round  fines  for  neglect :  ye  're  lazy  knaves  ; 

And  here  ye  lie  baiting  of  bombards  when 

Ye  should  do  service.     Hark!    the  trumpets  sound; 

They  're  come  already  from  the  christening : 

Go,  break  among  the  press,  and  find  a  way  out 

To  let  the  troop  pass  fairly,  or  I  '11  find 

A  Marshalsea  shall  hold  ye  play  these  two  months. 

Port.  Make  way  there  for  the  princess. 

Man.  You  great  fellow,  91 

Stand  close  up,  or  I  '11  make  your  head  ache. 

137 


Act  V.  Sc.  V.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Port.  You  i'  the  camlet,  get  up  o*  the  rail ; 

I  '11  peck  you  o'er  the  pales  else.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  V. 

The  palace. 

Enter  Trumpets,  sounding;  then  two  Aldermen,  Lord 
Mayor,  Garter,  Cranmer,  Duke  of  Norfolk  zi'ifh  his 
marshal's  staff,  Duke  of  Suffolk,  tzco  Nohlcmcn  bear- 
ing great  standing-howls  for  the  christening  gifts: 
then  four  Noblemen  bearing  a  canopy,  under  which 
the  Duchess  of  Norfolk,  godmother,  bearing  the 
child  richly  habited  in  a  mantle,  etc.,  train  borne  b\  a 
Lady;  then  follows  the  Marchioness  Dorset,  the 
other  godmother,  and  Ladies.  The  troop  pass  once 
about  the  stage,  and  Garter  speaks. 

Gart.  Heaven,  from  thy  endless  goodness,  send  pros- 
perous life,  long,  and  ever  happy,  to  the  high 
and  mighty  princess  of  England,  Elizabeth ! 

Flourish.    Enter  King  and  Guard. 

Gran.    [Kneeling]  And  to  your  royal  grace,  and  the  good 
queen, 
Aly  noble  partners  and  myself  thus  pray : 
All  comfort,  joy,  in  this  niost  gracious  lady. 
Heaven  ever  laid  up  to  make  parents  happy. 
May  hourly  fall  upon  ye ! 

King.  Thank  you,  good  lord  archbishop: 

What  is  her  name? 

Gran.  Elizabeth. 

Kmg.  Stand  up,  lord. 

[The  King  kisses  the  child. 
With  this  kiss  take  my  blessing :  God  protect  thee  ! 

i.iS 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.         Act  V.  Sc.  v. 

Into  whose  hand  I  give  thy  Hfe. 
Cran.  Amen.  ii 

King.  My  noble  gossips,  ye  have  been  too  prodigal : 
I  thank  ye  heartily  ;  so  shall  this  lady, 
When  she  has  so  much  English. 
Cran.  Let  me  speak,  sir. 

For  heaven  now  bids  me ;   and  the  words  I  utter 
Let  none  think  flattery,  for  they  '11  find  'em  truth. 
This  royal  infant — heaven  still  move  about  her ! — 
Though  in  her  cradle,  yet  now  promises 
Upon  this  land  a  thousand  thousand  blessings, 
Which  time  shall  bring  to  ripeness  :  she  shall  be —  20 
But  few  now  living  can  bfhold  that  goodness — 
A  pattern  to  all  princes  living  with  her, 
And  all  that  shall  succeed :   Saba  was  never 
More  covetous  of  wisdom  and  fair  virtue 
Than  this  pure  soul  shall  be  :  all  princely  graces, 
That  mould  up  such  a  mighty  piece  as  this  is, 
With  all  the  virtues  that  attend  the  good, 
Shall  still  be  doubled  on  her  :  truth  shall  nurse  her. 
Holy  and  heavenly  thoughts  still  counsel  her : 
She  shall  be  loved  and  fear'd  :    her  own  shall  bless 
her ;  3° 

Her  foes  shake  like  a  field  of  beaten  corn. 
And  hang  their  heads   with   sorrow,      (lood   grows 

with  her : 
In  her  days  every  man  shall  eat  in  safety. 
Under  his  own  vine,  what  he  plants,  and  sing 
The  merry  songs  of  peace  to  all  his  neighbours  : 
God  shall  be  truly  known ;   and  those  about  her 
From  her  shall  read  the  perfect  ways  of  honour, 
And  by  those  claim  their  greatness,  not  by  blood. 

139 


Act  V.  Sc.  V.  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Nor  shall  this  peace  sleep  with  her ;  but,  as  when 
The  bird  of  wonder  dies,  the  maiden  phoenix,  40 

Her  ashes  new  create  another  heir 
As  great  in  admiration  as  herself, 
So  shall  she  leave  her  blessedness  to  one — 
When  heaven  shall  call  lier  from  this  cloud  of  dark- 
ness— 
Who  from  the  sacred  ashes  of  her  honour 
Shall  star-like  rise,  as  great  in  fame  as  she  w^as. 
And  so  stand  fix'd.    Peace,  plenty,  love,  truth,  terror. 
That  were  the  servants  to  this  chosen  infant. 
Shall  then  be  his,  and  like  a  vine  grow  to  him : 
\Mierever  the  bright  sun  of  heaven  shall  shine,         50 
His  honour  and  the  greatness  of  his  name 
Shall  be,  and  make  new  nations  :  he  shall  flourish. 
And,  like  a  mountain  cedar,  reach  his  branches 
To  all  the  plains  about  him.    Our  children's  children 
Shall  see  this,  and  bless  heaven. 

King.  Thou  speakest  wonders. 

Cran.  She  shall  be,  to  the  happiness  of  England, 
An  aged  princess ;  many  days  shall  see  her. 
And  yet  no  day  without  a  deed  to  crown  it. 
Would  I  had  known  no  more !  but  she  must  die ; 
She  must ;  the  saints  must  have  her ;  yet  a  virgin,  60 
A  most  unspotted  lily  shall  she  pass 
To  the  ground,  and  all  the  world  shall  mourn  her. 

King.  O  lord  archbishop. 

Thou  hast  made  me  now  a  man !  never,  before 
This  happy  child,  did  I  get  any  thing. 
This  oracle  of  comfort  has  so  pleased  me. 
That  when  I  am  in  heaven  I  shall  desire 
To  see  what  this  child  does,  and  praise  my  Maker. 
140 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Epilogue 

I  thank  ye  all.     To  you,  my  good  lord  mayor, 
And  your  good  brethren,  I  am  much  beholding ;      70 
I  have  received  much  honour  by  your  presence, 
And  ye  shall  find  me  thankful.     Lead  the  way,  lords  : 
Ye  must  all  see  the  queen,  and  she  must  thank  ye ; 
She  will  be  sick  else.     This  day,  no  man  think 
Has  business  at  his  house ;   for  all  shall  stay : 
This  little  one  shall  make  it  hoHday.  [Exeunt. 


THE   EPILOGUE. 

'Tis  ten  to  one  this  play  can  never  please 
All  that  are  here :   some  come  to  take  their  ease. 
And  sleep  an  act  or  two ;   but  those,  we  fear. 
We  have  frighted  w^ith  our  trumpets ;   so,  'tis  clear, 
They  '11  say  'tis  naught :  others,  to  hear  the  city 
Abused  extremely,  and  to  cry  '  That 's  witty ! ' 
Which  we  have  not  done  neither ;    that,  I  fear. 
All  the  expected  good  we  're  like  to  hear 
For  this  play  at  this  time,  is  only  in 
The  merciful  construction  of  good  women ;  10 

For  such  a  one  we  show'd  'em :   if  they  smile, 
And  say  'twill  do,  I  k-now,  within  a  while 
All  the  best  men  are  ours  ;   for  'tis  ill  hap. 
If  they  hold  when  their  ladies  bid  'em  clap. 


i4I 


FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 


Glossary. 


Abergavenny  (vide  Note)  ;  I.  i. 

211. 

Abhor,  protest  strongly  against 
(according  to  Blackstone,  a 
technical  term  of  the  canon 
law  =  L  a  t  i  n  detestor,  but 
Holinshed  has  "Abhor,  re- 
fuse, and  forsake")  ;  II.  .iv. 
8i. 

Aboded]  foreboded;  I.  i.  93- 

Admit,  permit,  allow ;  IV.  ii. 
107. 

Advertise,  inform;  II.  iv.  178. 

Advised;  "  be  a.,"  be  careful, 
reflect;  I.  i.  139. 

After,  afterwards;  III.  ii.  202. 

Alike;  "things  known  a.,"  i.e. 
equally  to  you  as  to  the 
others  ;  I.  ii.  45. 

Allay,  subdue,  silence;  II.  i. 
152. 

A  lie  giant,  loyal ;  III.  ii.  176. 

Allozu'd,  approved;  I.  ii.  83. 

An,  if;  III.  ii.  375. 

Anon,  presently;  I.  ii.  107. 

A-picces,  in  pieces  ;  V.  iv.  80. 

Appliance,  application,  cure;  I. 
i.  124. 

Approve,  confirm  (Collier  MS., 
"  improve  ")  ;  II.  iii.  74. 

Arrogancy,  arrogance  (Folio  i, 
"Arrogancie" ;  Folios  2,  3,  4, 
"Arrogance  ")  ;  II.  iv.  no. 

As,  as  if ;  I.  i.  10. 


Asher-house ;  Asher  was  the 
old  spelling  of  Esher,  a  place 
near  Hampton  Court ;  III.  ii. 
231. 

At,  with;  V.  i.  131. 

Attach,  arrest;  I.  i.  217. 

,  seized ;  L  i.  95. 

Attainder,  disgrace  (Folios  i, 
2,  "Attcndure";  Folios  3,  4, 
"Attaindure")  ;   II.  i.  41. 

Avaitnt ;  "give  her  the  a.,"  bid 
her  begone  ;  II.  iii.  10. 

Avoid,  quit,  leave;  V.  i.  86. 

Baiting,  drmking  heavily ;  V. 
iv.  85. 

Bancjuet,  dessert;  "running  b.," 
i.e.  hasty  refreshment ;  used 
figuratively;  I.  iv.  12. 

Bar,  prevent ;  III.  ii.  17. 

Beholding,  beholden  ;  I.  iv.  41. 

Beneficial,  beneficent ;  "  bene- 
ficial sun,"  i.e.  the  King;  I.  i. 
56. 

BesJirezv  me,  a  mild  assevera- 
tion ;  II.  iii.  24. 

Beside,  besides ;  Prol.  19. 

Bevis;  alluding  to  the  old 
legend  of  the  Saxon  hero 
Bevis,  whom  William  the 
Conqueror  made  Earl  of 
Southampton;  he  was  cred- 
ited with  performing  incred- 
ible deeds  of  valour ;  he  con- 


r42 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIIL 


Glossary 


quered  the  giant  Ascapar ;  I. 
i.  38. 

Bevy,  company  of  ladies 
(originally  a  flock  of  birds, 
especially  quails)  ;  I.  iv.  4. 

Blister' d,  slashed,  puffed  (Fo- 
lios I,  2,  3,  "  blistred  "  ;  Fo- 
lio 4,  "  bolstvcd  ")  :  I.  iii.    31. 


'  Tall  stockings,  short-bliderd 

breeches.'' 

From  an  old  French  print  repre-enting 

a  courtier  of  the  time  of  Francis  I. 

Blow  US,  blow  us  up  ;  V.  iv.  48. 

Bombards,  large  leathern  ves- 
sels to  carry  liquors  ;  V.  iv.  85. 

Book,  learning  (Collier  MS., 
"brood"  \  Lettsom  conj. 
"brat")  ;  Li.  122. 

Bootless,  useless;  11.  iv.  61. 

Bores,  undermines,  over- 
reaches (Becket  conj. 
"bords")  ;  I.  i.  128; 

Bosom  up,  inclose  in  your 
heart;  I.  i.  112. 


Bozv'd;  "  a  three-pence  b.,"  i.e. 
bent;  perhaps  alluding  to  the 
old  custom  of  ratifying  an 
agreement  by  a  bent  coin ; 
or  merely  equivalent  to  a 
"  worthless  coin  "  ;  II.  iii.  36. 
(Cp.  illustration.) 


From  an  original  specin;(  n. 

Brake,  thicket ;  I.  ii.  75. 

Brazier,  used  quibblingly  in 
double  sense  of*  (i.)  a  worker 
in  brass,  (ii.)  a  portable  fire- 
place ;  V.  iv.  42. 

Broken  zvitli,  broached  the  sub- 
ject to;  V.  i.  47. 

B  r  o  0  m  s  f  a  if,  broomstaff's 
length  ;  V.  iv.  58. 

Buzzing,  whisper;  II.  i.  148. 

By  day  and  night!  an  exclama- 
tion ;  an  oath  ;  I.  ii.  213. 

Camlet,  a  light  woollen  stuff 
originally  made  of  camel's 
hair  (Folios,  "  Chaniblet  ")  ; 
V.  iv.  93. 

Capable  of,  susceptible  to  the 
temptations  of;  V.  iii.  11. 

Cardinal  (dissyllabic;  Folio  i, 
"  Cardnall")  ;  II.  ii.97. 

Carried,  carried  out,  managed; 
I.  i.  100. 

Caution,  warning  ;  II.  iv.  186. 

Censure,  judgement;  I.  i.  33- 

Certain,  certainly ;  XL  iv.  71. 


143 


Glossary 


FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 


Ccrtes,  certainly ;  I.  i.  48. 

Chafed,  angry,  enraged  (Folios 
1,2,"  chaff'd");   I.i.  123. 

Challenge,  the  legal  right  of 
objecting  to  being  tried  by  a 
person  ;  II.  iv.  yj. 

Chambers,  small  cannon  dis- 
charged on  festal  occasions ; 
I.  iv.  49. 

Cheruhins,  cherubs  ;  I.  i.  23. 

Cheveril,  kid-skin,  used  ad- 
jectively  ;  II.  iii.  32. 

Chiding,  noisy,  clamorous;  III. 
ii.  197-^ 

Chine,  joint  of  beef  (Collier 
MS.,  "  queen  ")  ;  V.  iv.  26. 

Churehman, ecclesiastic;  I. iii. 55. 

Cited,  summoned  to  appear ; 
IV.  i.  29. 

Clerks,  clergy  ;  II.  ii.  92. 

Clinquant,  glittering  with  gold 
or  silver  lace ;  I.  i.  19. 

Clotharius,  one  of  the  Mero- 
vingian kings  of  France ; 
taken  as  a  type  of  antiquity; 
I.  iii.  10. 

Cliihs!  "  In  any  public  affray, 
the  cry  was  Clubs!  Clubs!  by 
way  of  calling  for  persons 
with  clubs  to  part  the  com- 
batants"  (Nares)  ;  clubs 
were  the  weapons  of  the 
London  apprentices;  V.iv.5.3. 

Coasts,  creeps  along,  like  a  ves- 
sel following  the  windings 
of  the  coast ;  III.  ii.  38. 

Colbrand,  the  Danish  giant 
who.  according  to  the  old 
legend,  was  slain  by  Sir  Guy 
of  Warwick ;  V.  iv.  22. 


MS., 
'col- 


Ill. 


Cold,    coldness     (Collier 
"coldness"  :  S.  Walker, 
our")  ;  IV.  ii.  98. 

Colour,  pretext ;  I.  i.  178. 

Come  off,  get  out.  escape 
ii.  23. 

Commends,  delivers;  II.  iii,  61. 

Commissions,  warrants;  I,  ii. 
20. 

Compell'd,  thrust  upon  one,  un- 
sought ;  II.  iii.  87. 

Complete,  accomplished;  I.  ii. 
118. 

Conceit,  conception,  opinion ; 
II.  iii.  74. 

Conceive,  think,  look  upon;  I. 
ii.  105. 

Conclave;  "the  holy  c,"  i.e. 
the  College  of  Cardinals;  II. 
ii.  100. 

Confederacy,  conspiracy  ;    I.  ii.  3. 

Confident;  "I  am  c,"  I  have 
confidence  in  you ;  II.  i.  146. 

Conjunction ;  the  technical 
term  in  astrology  for  the 
"conjunction"  of  two  plan- 
ets ;  III.  ii.  45. 

Consulting ;  "not  c."  i.e.  not  c. 
with  each  other  spontaneous- 
ly;  I.  i.91. 

Contrary,  contradictorv  ;  III.  ii. 
26. 

Convented,  convened, 
m  o  n  e  d  (Johnson, 
vened")  ;  V.  i.  52. 

Cope;  "to  c,"  of  encountering; 
I.  ii.  78. 

Covent,  convent;  IV.  ii.  19. 

Crab-tree,  crab  apple  tree;  V. 
iv.  8. 

Credit,  reputation ;  III.  ii.  265. 


sum- 
con- 


144 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII. 


Glossary 


Cum    privilegio,    "  with    exclu- 
sive right  "  ;  I.  iii.  34. 
Cure,  curacy;  I.  iv.  33. 

Dare,   make   to   cower   in    fear 

{v.  Note)  ;  III.  ii.  282. 
Dear,  dearly;  II.  ii.  iii. 
Deliver,    relate,    report ;    I.    ii. 

143. 
Demure,  solemn ;  I.  ii.  167. 
Derived,  drawn  upon,  brought 

upon;  II.  iv.  z^. 
Desperate,   reckless,   rash;    III. 

i.86. 
Did  {v.  Note)  ;  IV.  ii.  60. 
Difference,  dissension;  I.  i.  loi. 
Discerner,  critic  ;  I.  i.  32. 
Discovers,  reveals,  betrays ;  V. 

iii.  71. 
Disposed,  used,  employed;  I.  ii. 

116. 
Due;    "  due    o'    the    verdict," 

right    verdict     (Folios    i,    2, 

"  dew")  ;  V.  i.  131. 
Dunstable,    Dunstable    Priory ; 

IV.  i.  27. 

Easy     roads,     easy     journeys, 

stages  ;  IV.  ii.  17. 
Element,  component  part;   I.  i. 

48. 
Emballing,  investment  with  the 

ball ;   one  of  the  insignia  of 

royalty  used  at  a  coronation ; 

II.  iii.  47. 
Embracemcnt,  embrace;  I.  i.  10. 
End ;   "  the  e.,"   at  the  bottom 

(Long  MS.,  "at  the  end")  ; 

II.  i.  40. 
Envy,  malice,  hatred;  Il.i.  85. 
Equal,  impartial;  II.  ii.  108. 


Estate,  state  ;  II.  ii.  70. 

Even,  pure,  free  from  blemish ; 

III.  i.  37. 
Ever;  "not  e.,"  i.e.  not  always  ; 

V.  i.  129. 
Exclamation,  reproach,  outcry ; 

I.  ii.  52. 
Exhalation,     meteor,     shooting 

star;  III.  ii.  226. 

Fail,  failure  of  issue ;  I.  ii.  145. 

Fail'd,  died;  I.  ii.  184. 

Faints,  makes  faint;  II.  iii.  103. 

Faith,  fidelity;  II.  i.  145. 

Father,  father-in-law;  II.  i.  44. 

Fearful,  afraid,  full  of  fear;  V. 
i.88. 

Fellow,  equal ;  I.  iii.  41. 

Fellows,  comrades;  II.  i.  jt^. 

Fierce,  excessive  ;  I.  i.  54. 

File,  list;  I.  i.  75. 

Filed  with,  kept  pace  with  (Fo- 
lios, "niVd")  ;   III.  ii.,171. 

Fine  hand,  nice  business;  V.  iv. 

74. 
Fire-drake,    fiery    dragon,    me- 
teor, will  o'  the  wisp  ;  V.  iv. 

45-  ^ 

Fit ;  "  fit  o'  the  face,"  grimace ; 

I.  iii.  7. 

Fit,  suitable;  II.  ii.  117. 

Flaw'd,  broken ;  I.  i.  95  ;  made 
rents  in,  wrought  damage ; 
I.  ii.  21. 

Fool  and  feather;  alluding  to 
the  grotesque  plume  of  feath- 
ers in  the  jester's  cap;  I.  iii. 
25.  Cp.  the  accompanying  il- 
lustration from  a  bas  relief 
in  the  Hotel  du  Bourgthe- 
roulde,  Rouen. 


145 


Glossary 


FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 


For,  as  for ;  II.  ii.  50. 
Force,  urge ;  III.  ii.  2. 
Foreign  man,  one  employed  in 

foreign  embassies;   II.  ii.  129. 
Forged,  framed,  planned ;   I.  ii. 

181. 
Forty   hours,   used    for   an    in- 
definite time  ;  III.  ii.  253. 
Forty  pence,  a  sum  commonly 

used  for  a  trifling  wager;  II. 

iii.  89. 
Frame,  plan  ;  I.  ii.  44. 
Free,  freely ;  II.  i.  82. 
Free  of,  unaffected  by;   II.  iv. 

99. 
Fret,  eat  away ;  III.  ii.  105. 
From,  of;  III.  ii.  268. 
Front,  am  in  the  front  rank;  I. 

ii.  42. 
Fullers,    cloth    cleaners ;     I.    ii. 

Furnish'd,    suitably    appointed, 
arranged;  II.  ii.  141. 


Gainsay,  deny ;  II.  iv.  96. 

Gait,   walk    (Folios,   "gate"); 

III.  ii.  116. 

Gall'd,  wounded;  III.  ii.  207. 

Gap,  passage ;  V.  i.  36. 

Gaping,  bawling,   shouting;   V. 

IV.  3. 

Gave;  "  My  mind  g.  me./'  i.e. 
gave  me  to  understand,  I  had 
a  misgiving;  V.  iii.  109. 

Gavest,  didst  impute  to ;  III.  ii. 
262. 

Gives  zvay,  makes  way,  gives 
opportunity;  III.  ii.  16. 

Gladded,  gladdened ;  II,  iv.  196. 

Gladding,   gladdening;   V.  i.  71. 

Glistering,  glistening,  shining; 
II.  iii.  21. 

Gloss;  "painted  g.,"  highly  col- 
oured comment,  rhetorical 
flourish  ;  V.  iii.  71. 

Go  about,  intend  to  do;  Li.  131. 

Going  out,  expedition  ;  I.  i.  yz- 

Good,  goodness  (?  wealth;  or, 
good  man),  merit  (Johnson 
conj.  "ground'');  V.  i-  22 
{vide  Note)  ;  IV.  ii.  60.     # 

Gossips,  sponsors  ;  V.  v.  12. 

Government,  self-control ;  II. 
iv.  138. 

Grief,  grievance;  I.  ii.  56. 

Grosser,  coarser,  ruder ;  I.  ii. 
84. 

Guarded,  trimmed,  orna- 
mented ;  Prol.  16. 

Guy,  the  famous  Sir  Guy  of 
Warwick,  the  hero  of  the  old 
romances  ;  V.  iv.  22. 

Hall ;  "  the  hall,"  i.e.  Westmin- 
ster Hall ;  II.  i.  2. 


146 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII. 


Glossary 


Happiest ;  "  h.  hearers."  i.e. 
best  disposed,  most  favour- 
able ;  Prol.  24. 

Happily,  haply,  perhaps  ;  IV.  ii. 
10. 

Hardly,  harshly,  unfavourably ; 
I.  ii.  105. 

Hard-ruled,  not  easily  man- 
aged; III.  ii.  loi. 

Have -at -him,  attack,  thrust 
{vide  Note)  ;  II.  ii.  85. 

Have  at  yon;  an  exclamation 
of  warning  in  attacking ;  III. 

ii.  309- 
Having,  possession,  wealth ;  II. 

iii.  23. 
He,  man;  V.  iii.  ,131. 
Heart;  "  the  best  h.,"  the  very 

essence,  core;  I.  ii.  i. 
Hedges,  creeps  along  by  hedge- 

rows  (W  a  r  b  u  r  t  o  n. 

"edges")  ;  III.  ii.  39. 
Height;    "  to    the    h.."    in    the 

highest  degree;  I.  ii.  214. 
Held,    i'.e.     have    it     acknowl- 
edged; I.  iii.  47. 
,     did    hold    good;     II.     i. 

149. 
Hire   (dissyllabic)  ;  II.  iii.  36. 
Holidame ;  "  by  my  h.."  an  oath 

(Folios,  '' holydame  "  ; 

Rowe,  "  holy  Dame")  ;  V.  i. 

116. 
Hours   (dissyllabic)  ;  V.  i.  2. 
Hulling,  floating  to  and  fro  ;  II. 

iv.  199. 
Husband ;    "  an    ill    h.,"    a   bad 

economist   or   manager;    III. 

ii.  142. 

In,  concerning;  II.  iv.  103. 


Incensed,  incited,  made  to  be- 
lieve (Nares,  "  insens'd,  i.e. 
informed)  ;  V.  i.  43. 

Indifferent,  impartial,  un- 
biased ;  II.  iv.  17. 

Indurancc,  durance,  imprison- 
ment; V.  i.   121. 

Innumerable;  "  i.  substance," 
untold  wealth,  immense 
treasure  (H  a  n  m  e  r,  "  i. 
sums  ")  ;  III.  ii.  326. 

Interpreters;  "sick  i.."  preju- 
diced critics;  I.  ii.  82. 

Issues,  sons;  III.  ii.  291. 

Item,  again,  further;  used  in 
enumeration ;  III.  ii.  320. 

Its,  its  own  (Folios,  "it's"); 
I.  i.  18. 

Jaded,      treated      like       jades, 

spurned ;  III.  ii.  280. 
Justify,  confirm,  ratify;  I.  ii.  6. 

Kccch,  the  fat  of  an  ox  or 
cow,  rolled  up  by  a  butcher 
in  a  round  lumn.  hence  a 
name  given  to  Wolsey.  the 
butcher's  son  (Folio  4. 
"  Ketch  ")  :  I.  i.  55. 

Kimbolton.  Kimbolton  Castle 
in  Huntingdon ;  now  the  seat 
of  the  Duke  of  Manchester 
(Folios  I,  2,  "  Kymmalton" 
probably  the  contemporary 
pronunciation  of  the  word)  ; 
IV.  i.  34. 

Knock  it,  beat  time;  I.  iv.  108. 

Lag  end,  latter  end;  I.  iii.  t,$. 

Large  commission,  warrant  ex- 
ercising full  power ;  III.  ii. 
320. 


117 


Glossary 


FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 


Late,    "  lately     considered 

valid";  IV.  i.  z^- 
Lay,  resided,  dwelt ;  IV.  i.  28. 
Lay   by   the   heels,   put    in    the 

stocks ;  V.  iv.  83. 
Lay  upon,  charge,  impute;  III. 

ii.  265. 
Learnedly,  like  one  learned  in 

the  law;  II.  i.  28. 
Leave,  leave  off,  desist ;  IV.  ii. 

94- 

Legatine,  pertaining  to  a  legate 
(Folio  I,  "  Legatiue  "  \  Fo- 
lios 2,  3,  "  Legantive" ;  Fo- 
lio 4,  "  Legantine")  ;  III.  ii. 
339. 

Leisure,  time  at  one's  own  dis- 
posal;  (Collier  MS.,  "la- 
hour")  ;  III.  ii.  140. 

Let;  "  let  him  be,"  even  though 
he  be ;  IV.  ii.  146. 

Letters-patents  (the  correct 
Anglo-French  form  of  Uteris 
patentes) ,  letters  patent;  III. 
ii.  250. 

Level,  aim :  I.  ii.  2. 

Like  it,  may  it  please ;  I.  i. 
100. 

Limbo  Patrum,  prison ;  strictly 
the  place  where  the  souls  of 
the  Fathers  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament remained  till  Christ's 
descent  to  hell ;  V.  iv.  6S. 

Line,  equator ;  V.  iv.  44. 

List,  pleases ;  II.  ii.  22. 

Little;  "  in  a  1.,"  in  few  words, 
briefly;  II.  i.  11. 

'Longing,  belonging  (Folios  i, 
2,  3,  "  longing " ;  Folio  4. 
"  'longing")  ;  I.  ii.  32. 

Look  for,  expect;  V.  iv.  10. 


Loose,  free  of  speech ;  II.  i.  127. 
Lop,  the  smaller  branches  of  a 

tree  cut  off  for  faggots ;  I.  ii. 

96. 

Lose,  forget;  II.  i.  57. 

Maidenhead,  maidenhood;  II. 
iii.  23. 

Main,  general;  IV.  i.  31. 

Makings ;  "  royal  m.."  ensigns 
of  royalty;  IV.  i.  87. 

Manage,  training;  V.  iii.  24. 

Mark,  a  coin  worth  i  3/4 ;  V.  i. 
170. 

Marshalsea,  the  well-known 
prison  ;  afterwards  used  as  a 
debtors'  prison  ;  V.  iv.  90. 

May,  can ;  I.  ii.  200. 

May-day  morning;  "  in  the 
month  of  May.  namely,  on 
May-day  in  the  morning, 
every  man  except  impedi- 
ment, would  walk  into  the 
sweet  meadows  and  green 
woods;  there  to  rejoice  their 
spirits  with  the  beauty  and 
savour  of  sweet  flowers,  and 
with  the  noise  of  birds,  prais- 
ing God  in  their  kind " 
(Stowe)  ;  V.  iv.  15. 

Mazed,    amazed,    bewildering ; 

II.  iv.  185. 

Mean,  means;  V.  iii.  146. 
Measure,  a  slow  stately  dance ; 

I.  iv.  106. 
Memorized,   made   memorable ; 

III.  ii.  52. 

Mere,    utter,    absolute ;    III.    ii. 

-    329- 

Mincing,  affectation;  II.  iii.  31. 

Mind,   memory;    III.   ii-    13&- 


148 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII. 


Glossary 


Minds,  "  their  royal  m.,"  their 
devotion  to  the  king  (Pope, 
"loyal")',  IV.  i.  8. 

Mistaken,  misjudged;  I.  i.  195. 

Mistakes,  misunderstands ;  III. 
i.  loi. 

Mo,  more ;  II.  iii.  97. 

Model,  image,  copy;  IV.  ii.  132. 

Modest,  moderate ;  V.  iii.  69. 

Modesty,    moderation ;    IV.    ii. 

74- 

Moiety,  half;  I.  ii.  12. 

Moorfields,  a  place  of  resort 
where  the  trainbands  of  the 
city    were    exercised ;    V.    iv. 

ZZ- 

Motions,  motives,  impulses ;   I. 

i-  153- 
Mounting,   raising  on  high;   I. 

ii.  205. 
Mounts,  makes  to  mount;  I.  i. 

•  144- 

Music,  musicians  ;  IV.  ii.  94. 
Mysteries,  artificial  fashions ;  I. 
iii.  2. 

Naughty,  wicked:  V.  i.  138. 

N ew-trimm' d ,  newly  fitted  up; 
I.  ii.  80. 

Noised,  rumoured,  reported ;  I. 
ii.  105. 

Note,  notice;  "gives  n.,"  pro- 
claims, I.  i.  63 ;  information, 
I.  ii.  48. 

Noted,  noticed,  observed ;  II.  i. 
46. 

Nothing,  not  at  all;  V.  i.   125. 

O',  off  from ;  V.  iv.  93. 
Objections,  accusations;  III.  ii. 
307. 


Offer,  opportunity;  III.  ii.  4. 

Office;  "  the  o.,"  i.e.  the  officers 
(Roderick  conj.  "  each  of- 
fice ")  ;  I.  i.  44. 

Omit,  miss,  neglect;  III.  ii.  3. 

On,  of ;  I.  i.  94. 

Once,  at  one  time ;  I.  ii.  82. 

On's,  of  his ;  III.  ii.  106. 

Open;  "  in  o.,"  openly,  in  pub- 
lic; III.  ii.  404. 

Opinion,  reputation  {zide 
Note)  ;  Prol.  20. 

Opposing,  placing  face  to  face 
(Long     MS.,     "exposing")  ; 

IV.  i.  67. 

Other,  otherwise ;  I.  iii.  58. 
Outgo,  go  beyond,   surpass ;  I. 

ii.  207. 
Out  of,  except;  III.  ii.  13. 
Outspeaks,  exceeds;  II.  ii.  127. 
Oiitzvorths,  exceeds  in  value ;  I. 

i.  123. 

Pace,  put  through  their  paces ; 

V.  iii.  22. 

Pain,  pains ;  III.  ii.  72. 

Painting;  "  as  a  p.,"  i.e.  of  the 
cheeks ;  I.  i.  26. 

Pales,  palings,  enclosure ;  V. 
iv.  94- 

Patiging,  inflicting  great  pain ; 
II.  iii.   15. 

Papers,  sets  down  on  the  list 
(Campbell,  "the  papers"; 
Staunton  conj.  "he  pau- 
pers"); (vide  Note);  I.  i. 
80. 

Paragon'd,  regarded  as  a  model 
or  pattern  ;  II.  iv.  230. 

Parcels,    parts,    items;    III.    ii. 

125- 


149 


Glossary 


FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 


Pared,  diminished;  III.  ii.  159. 

Paris-garden,  the  celebrated 
bear-garden  on  Bankside, 
Southwark  (Folios  i,  2,  3, 
" Parisli  Garden")  ;  V.  iv.  2. 


y  oris  Qar  Jen 


From  Ag-gas's  Ma/>  of  Londoriy  pre- 
served in  Guildhall. 

Part  aivay,  depart ;  III.  i.  97. 

Parted,  departed ;  IV,  i.  92 ; 
shared  V.  ii.  28. 

Particular,  special  ground ; 
III.  ii.  189. 

Part  of,  in  part,  partly;  III.  i.  24. 

Peck,  pitch,  fling  (Johnson, 
''pick")  ;  V.  iv.  94. 

Pepin,  one  of  the  Carlovingian 
Kings  of  France,  taken  as  a 
type  of  antiquity;  I.  iii.  10. 

Period ;  "  his  p.,"  the  end  he 
wishes  to  attain ;  I.  ii.  209. 

Perk'd  up,  made  smart,  dressed 
up;  II.  iii.  21. 

Perniciously,  hatefully,  to  the 
death ;  II.  i.  50. 

Phoenix;  "maiden  p.,"  so  called 
because  the  bird  was  sexless 
and  did  not  reproduce  itself 
in  the  ordinary  course  of  na- 
ture, but  arose  from  its 
ashes ;  V.  v.  40. 


Pillars,  the  insignia  of  cardi- 
nals; II.  iv.  (stage  direction). 

Pinked,  pierced  with  holes ;  V. 
iv.  50. 

Pitch,  height,  dignity  (War- 
burton,  "  pinch  "  ;  Theobald 
conj.  "hatch")  ;  II.  ii.  50. 

Pity,  subject  for  compassion; 
II.  iii.  10. 

Plain-song,  simple  melody, 
without  variations ;  I.  iii.  45. 

Play;  "make  my  play";  i.e. 
''  win  what  I  play  for " ;  I. 
iv.  46. 

Pluck  off,  abate  from  the  rank ; 
II.  iii.  40. 

Porringer,  cap  shaped  like  a 
porringer  or  porridge  bowl ; 
V.  iv.  50.  Cp.  the  accom- 
panying representation  of  a 
Milan  bonnet  fashionable  at 
this  time. 


A  Pinked  Porri7iger. 
From  a  woodcut  dated  1546. 

Powers,  people  of  highest 
power  and  authority; 
(Vaughan  conj.  "peers"); 
II.  iv.  113. 


150 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII. 


Glossary 


Poicle's,  i.e.  St.  Paul's  Cathe- 
dral (Folios  I,  2,  "  Powles"  ; 
Folio  3,  "  Poule's  "  ;  Folio  4, 
"Pauls");   V.   iv.    16. 

Practice,  plot,  artifice;  I.  i.  204. 

Prcemunire,  a  writ  issued 
against  any  one  who "  has 
committed  the  offence  of  in- 
troducing foreign  authority 
into  England  (probably  a 
corruption  of  prcemonere)  ; 
III.  ii.  340. 

i  ;ayers  (dissyllabic)  ;  II.  i.  yj. 

Preferr'd,  promoted ;  IV.  i.  102. 

Presence,       presence-chamber ; 

III.  i.    17;    King's   presence, 

IV.  ii.  37. 

Present,  present  moment;  V. 
iii.  9. 

Present,  immediate;  I.  ii.  211. 

Press,  crowd,  mob  (Folios  i, 
2,  "  preasse " ;  Folio  3, 
"  preass")  ;  V.  iv.  88. 

Prime,  first ;  III.  ii.  162. 

Primer,  more  urgent,  more 
pressing ;  I.  ii.  67. 

Primero,  an  ancient  game  of 
cards,  fashionable  in  those 
days;  V.  i.  7. 

Private,  alone;  II.  ii.  12. 

Privily,  privately;  I.  i.  183. 

Privity,  concurrence,  knowl- 
edge; I.  i.  74. 

Proof;  "  in  p.."  when  brought 
to  the  test ;  I.  i.  197. 

Proper,  fine  (used  ironically)  ; 
I.  i.  98. 

Purse;  "the  p.,"  i.e.  the  bag 
containing  the  great  seal  car- 
ried before  him  as  Lord 
Chancellor;   I.   i.    114-115. 


Put    off,    dismissed,    I.    ii.    32; 

discard,  dismiss,  II.  iv.  21. 
Putter  on,  instigator;   I.  ii.  24. 

Quality,  nature;   I.  ii.  84. 
Queen,  play  the  queen;   II.  iii. 

Raised   head,   levied  an   army ; 

II.  i.  108. 
Range,  rank;  II.  iii.  20. 
Rankness,    exuberance;    IV.    i. 

59. 
Rate,  estimation,  scale;  III.  ii. 

127. 
Read,      learn,      take     example 

(Collier  conj.  "tread")  ;  V. 

V.  37- 
Receipt,  reception ;  "  such  r.  of 

learning  "  =  the  reception   of 

such  learning;  II.  ii,  139. 
Renching    (vide    Note)  ;    I.    1. 

167. 
Respect;  "  dear  v.,"  i.e.  intense 

regard;  V.  iii.  119. 
Rub,    obstacle,    impediment    (a 

term  in  bowling)  ;  II.  i.  129. 
Run    in;    "is    r.    in,"    has    run 

into,  incurred;  I,  ii.  no. 

Saba,  the  queen  of  Sheba   (the 

Vulgate    "  Regina    Saba"); 

V.  v.  23. 
Sacring  bell,  the  bell   rung  at 

mass  at  the  elevation  of  the 

Host  (Rowe,  Pope,  "scaring 

bell");  III.  ii.  295. 
Salute,  touch,  affect,  exhilarate 

(Collier   MS.,   "elate");   II. 

iii.  103. 
Saving,  with  all  due  respect  to; 

II.  iii.  31. 


151 


Glossary 


FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 


Sazc,  "  we  s." ;  i.e.  saw  each 
other,  met  (Folios  3,  4, 
"saw  y'")  ;  I.  i.  2. 

Sectary,  dissenter ;  V.  iii.  70. 

Seeming,  show,  appearance ; 
II.  iv.  108. 

Sennet,  a  set  of  notes  on  the 
trumpet  or  cornet,  played  at 
the  entry  or  exit  of  a  proces- 
sion; II.  iv.  (stage  direc- 
tion). 

Set,  sitting;  III.  i.  74. 

Set  on,  set  forward ;  II.  iv.  241. 

Shot;  "  loose  s.,"  random 
shooters,  skirmishers ;  V.  iv. 

59. 

Shrewd,  ill,  ill-natured ;  V.  iii, 

178. 
Shrouds,  sail-ropes,   rigging  of 

a  ship ;  IV.  i.  72. 
Sick,    sick    with    pride ;    II.    ii. 

83;  feeble,  III.  i.  118. 
Sicken' d    impaired     (Theobald 

conj.  "  slacken' d")  ;  I.  i.  82. 
Sign,  set  a  stamp  on  ;  II.  iv.  ic8. 
Silenced;   "  the   ambassador   is 

s.,"  i.e.  "  commanded  to  keep 

his  house  in  silence  "  (Hall's 

Chronicles)  ;  I.  i.  97. 
Single,    sincere,    untainted ;    V. 

iii.  38. 
Slept  upon,  been  blinded  to  the 

faults  of ;  II.  ii.  43. 
Slightly,  smoothly,  rapidly   (S. 

Walker  conj.  "lightly")  ;  II. 

iv.   112. 
Solicited,      informed,      moved, 

stirred;  I.  ii.  18. 
Something,  somewhat ;  I.  i.  195. 
Sometimes,    sometime,    at    one 

time;  II.  iv.  181. 


Sooth,  truth;  II.  iii.  30. 
Sought,  gave  occasion  for,  in- 
curred; V.  ii.  15. 
Sound,  proclaim;  V.  ii.  13. 
Sounder,    more    loyal ;    III.    ii. 

274. 
Spaniard;    "  the    S.,"    i.e.    the 

Spanish  court ;  II.  ii.  90. 
Spann'd,  measured,  limited;   I. 

i.  223. 
Sparing,    niggardliness ;    I.    iii. 

60. 
Spavin,  a  disease  in  horses ;  I. 

iii.  12. 
Speak,  bear  witness,  II.  iv.  166 ; 

describe.  III.  i.  125. 
Spinsters,  spinners ;  I.  ii.  S3- 
Spleen,    malice,    enmity;    I.    ii. 

174. 
Spleeny,  hot-headed;  III.  ii.  99. 
Spoil,  destroy,  ruin ;  I.  ii.  175. 
Springhalt,  a  disease  in  horses; 

I.  iii.  13. 

Stand  on,  rely  upon ;  V.  i.  122. 

State,  chair  of  state,  throne ;  I. 
ii. ;  canopy,  I.  iv.  (stage  di- 
rection). 

Staying,  waiting ;  IV.  ii.  105. 

Still,     continually,     constantly ; 

II.  ii.  126. 

Stirs  against,  is  active  against 

(Collier     MS.,     "strives"); 

V.  iii.  39. 
Stomach,  pride,  arrogance ;  IV. 

ii.  34- 
Stood    to,    sided    with ;    II.    iv. 

86. 
Straiiis,  embraces ;  IV.  i.  46. 
Strove,  striven ;  II.  iv.  30. 
Suddenly,  immediately;   V.  iv. 

S3- 


152 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII. 


Glossary 


Sufferance,  suffering,  pain  ;  II. 
iii.  15- 

Suggestion,  underhanded  prac- 
tice, craft;  IV.  ii.  35. 

Suggests,  incites ;  I.  i.  164. 

Tainted,  disgraced;   IV.  ii.   14. 
Take  peace,  make  peace ;  II.  i. 

85. 

Talker,  a  mere  talker  (as  op- 
posed to  one  who  performs 
his  promise)  ;  II.  ii.  80. 

Temperance,  moderation,  self- 
restraint  ;  I.  i.  124. 

Tendance,  attention ;  III.  ii. 
149. 

Tender,  have  care,  regard  for ; 
II.  iv.  116. 

That,  so  that ;  I.  i.  25. 

This  {¥o\\o"  his")  ;  V.  iii.  133. 

Throughly,  thoroughly;  V.  i. 
no. 

Tied,  brought  into  a  condition 
of  bondage  (Folios  i.  2.  3. 
"  Ty'de  "  ;  Folio  4.  "  Tyd  "  ; 
Hanmer,  "  Tyth'd")  ;  IV.  ii. 
36. 

Time,  present  state  of  things ; 
V.  i.  37. 

To,  against ;  III.  ii.  92. 

To  be,  as  to  be;  III.  i.  86. 

Top-proud,  proud  in  the  high- 
est degree;   I.  i.   151. 

Touch,  hint;  V.  i.  13. 

Trace,  follow  (Clark  ]\IS.. 
"grace");  III.  ii.  45- 

Tract,  course,  process ;  I.  i.  40. 

Trade,  beaten  track  (Warbur- 
ton,  "  tread  ")  ;  V.  i.  36. 

Trembling;  "a  tr.  contribu- 
tion,"   a   c.    so   great   that    it 


makes  the  giver  tremble  (or, 
[  ?]      makes     us     tremble)  ; 
(Collier    MS.,    -trebling"); 
I.  ii.  95- 
Trozc,  "  I  t.."  I  believe  (Folios 

I.  2,  "  trod")  ;  I.  i.  184. 
Truncheoners,  men  with  clubs 

or  truncheons    (Folios   3,   4, 
"Truncheons")  ;  V.  iv.  54. 
Types,     distinguishing     marks, 
signs;   I.  iii.  31. 

Undertakes,    takes    charge    of; 

II.  i.  97. 

Unhappily,   unfavorablv ;   I.  iv. 

89.      / 
UnpartiaL     impartial ;      II.     ii. 

107; 

Unwittinglv,      unintentionallv ; 

III.  ii.  123. 

Use;  "  make  u.."'  take  advan- 
tage of  the  opportunity ;  III. 
ii.  420. 

Used  myself,  behaved,  con- 
ducted myself;  III.  i.  176. 

J'acant,    devoid,    empty;    V.    i. 

125. 
lvalues;  "  not  v.,"  is  not  worth; 

I.  i.  88. 
Virtue;  "  by  that  v."  ;  by  virtue 

of  that  office ;  V.  iii.  50. 
J'isitation,  visit;  I.  i.  179. 
Voice,  vote,  I.  ii.  70;   rumour, 

general  talk;  III.  ii.  405. 
Voices ;      "  free      v.,"      candid 

opinion ;  II.  ii.  94. 
Vouch,   testimon}',    attestation ; 

I.  i.  157- 

U^ag,  move;  I.  i.  2)2>. 


153 


Glossary 


FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 


JVas,  "  w.  too  far  '' ;  i.e.  went 

beyond  proper   bounds;    III. 

i.  65. 
JVay,    way   of    thinking,    relig- 
ious belief;  V.  i.  28. 
Ween,    deem,    imagine ;    V.    i. 

135- 
Weigh,  value ;  V.  i.  124. 
Weigh  out,  outweigh ;    III.  i.  88. 
Well  said,  well  done;  I.  iv.  30. 
Whoever,    whomsoever;    II.    i. 

47. 


Will,  desire ;  I.  ii.  13. 
Will'd,  desired;  III.  i.  18. 
]Vit,  understanding;   III.  i.  72. 
Withal,  with;  111.  ii.  130. 
JVitness,  testimony;  V.  i.  136. 
Work,    outwork,     fortification ; 

V.  iv.  62. 
Worship,  noble  rank,  nobility ; 

I.  i.  39- 
Wot,  know;  III.  ii.  122. 

You,  yourself ;  I.  iv.  20. 


Waterfront  of  the  Palace  at  Bridewell. 
From  Aggas's  Map  of  London,  preserved  in  Guildhall.) 


154 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

Critical   Notes. 

BY  ISRAEL   GOLLANCZ. 

Prol.  3.  'high  and  zcorking';  Staunton  reads  'and  high- 
working/ 

Prol.  12.  'shilling' ;  the  usual  price  for  a  seat  on  or  next  the  stage. 

Prol.  16.  'a  long  motley  coat";  the  professional  garb  of  a  fool 
or  jester. 

Prol.  21.  The  line  is  either  to  be  taken  as  a  parenthesis,  'that' 
referring  to  'opinion'  (=  reputation)  ;  or  as  following  directly 
on  '  opinion,'  i.e.  '  the  reputation  we  bring  of  making  what  we 
represent  strictly  in  accordance  with  truth.' 

I.  i.  6.  '  Those  suns  of  glory';  i.e.  Francis  I.,  King  of  France, 
and  Henry  VIII.,  King  of  England ;  Folios  3,  4,  read,  '  sons.' 

I.  i.  7,  '  the  vale  of  Andren.  'Tzcixt  Guynes  and  Arde.  Guynes, 
a  town  in  Picardy  belonging  to  the  English ;  Arde,  a  town  in 
Picardy  belonging  to  the  French ;  the  vale  of  Andren  between 
the  the  two  towns  was  the  scene  of  the  famous  '  Field  of  the 
Cloth  of  Gold.'     Cp.  illustration  at  end  of  Notes. 

I.  i.  63.  Capell's  reading  of  Folio  i,  'but  spider-like.  Out  of  his 
selfe-draiving  web,  O  gives  us  note.'  Further,  Capell  and  Rowe 
substituted  '  self -drawn '  for  '  self -drawing.' 

I.  i.  79, 80.  '  The  honourable  .  .  .  out,  .  .  .  him  in  he 
papers';  Folios  i,  2,  read  'The  Councell,  out  .  .  .  him  in,  he 
papers,'  etc.  Pope's  explanation  of  these  awkward  lines  is  prob- 
ably correct : — "  His  own  letter,  by  his  own  single  authority,  and 
without  the  concurrence  of  the  council,  must  fetch  him  in  whom 
he  papers"  (i.e.  registers  on  the  paper).  Various  emendations 
have  been  proposed;  e.g.  'the  papers';  'he  paupers.' 

I.  i.  86,  'minister  communication' ;  Collier  MS.,  'the  consum- 
mation ' ;  but  the  phrase  is  Holinshed's. 

I.  i.  90.  '  the  hideous  storm ' ;  "  On  Mondaie,  the  eighteenth  of 
June,  was  such  an  hideous  storme  of  wind  and  weather,  that 
manie  coniectured  it  did  prognosticate  trouble  and  hatred  shortlie 
after  to  follow  betweene  princes"  (Holinshed). 

I.  i.  115.  The  Duke  of  Buckingham's  surveyor  was  his  cousin, 
Charles  Knevet,  or  Knyvet,  grandson  of  Humphrey  Stafford, 
First  Duke  of  Buckingham. 

ISS 


Notes  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

I.  i.  120.  ' vcnotn-v.ionthed' ;  Pope's  reading;  Folios  read,  '  ven- 
on'd-month'd.' 

1.  i.  152,  '  Whom  from  the  floiv  of  gall  I  name  not,'  etc. ;  i.e. 
*  whom  I  mention,  not  because  I  am  still  angry,' ;  etc. 

I.  i.  167.  '  renching' ;  the  Camb.  ed.  'rinsing,'  Pope's  unneces- 
sary emendation  of  the  Folio  reading  '  zvrenching'  which  is  evi- 
dently an  error  for  'renching'  a  provincial  English  cognate  of 
'  rinse,'  both  words  being  ultimately  derived  from  the  same  Scan- 
dinavian original,  rinse,  through  the  medium  of  French,  rench,  a 
direct  borrowing  (Collier  ]\IS.,  '  zvrensing') . 

I.  i.  172.  '  connt-cardinar ;  Pope  proposed  'court-cardinal.' 

I.  i.  176.  '  Charles  the  Emperor,'  viz.,  Charles  V.,  Emperor  of 
Germany;  Katharine  was  his  mother's  sister. 

I.  i.  200.  'Hereford' ;  Capell's  reading;  Folios,  'Hertford.' 

I.  i.  204,  206.  The  meaning  of  these  unsatisfactory  lines  seems 
to  be,  as  Johnson  explained,  "  I  am  sorry  to  be  present,  and  an 
eye-witness  of  5'our  loss  of  liberty." 

IT  1.  211.  'Abergavenny ' ;  Folios,  'Aburgany/  the  usual  pro- 
nunciation of  the  name. 

I.  i.  217.  '  Montaciite'  \  Folios  read,  '  Monntacute'  \  Rowe  reads. 
'Montague.' 

I.  i.  219.  'chancellor'  \  Theobald's  correction;  Folios  i,  2  read, 
'  Councellour.' 

I.  i.  221.  'Nicholas  Hopkins' ',  Theobald's  correction  (from  Hol- 
inshed)  of  Folios,  '  MichaeW  (probablv  due  to  printer's  confusion 
oi'  Nich'  \w\ih' Mich'). 

I.  ii.  67.  'business'  •,W2irhvirioris  emendation  of  Folios,  'baseness.' 

I.  ii.  147.  '  Henton' ;  i.e.  Nicholas  Hopkins,  "a  monk  of  an 
house  of  the  Chartreux  Order  beside  Bristow,  called  Henton " 
(Holinshed)  ;  there  is  no  need  to  emend  the  text. 

I.  ii.  164.  'confession's  seal']  Theobald's  emendation  (following 
Holinshed)  of  Folios,  'commissions.' 

I.  ii.  170.  '  To  gain'',  the  reading  of  Folio  4;  Folios  i,  2.  3  read. 
'To':  Collier  MS.  reads,  'To  get';  Grant  White,  '  To  win.' 

I.  ii.  179.  'for  him';  Capell's  emendation  of  'For  this'  of  the 
Folios;  Collier  MS.  reads,  'From  this':  etc. 

I.  ii.  190.  '  Biilmer';  Folios  read,  'Blunter' :  Pope,  '  Blomer.' 

I.  iii.  13.  '  Or  springhalt' :  Verplanck's  (Collier  conj.)  emenda- 
tion of  Folios,  'A  springhalt' :  Pope,  'And  springhalt.' 

I.  iii.  34.  'zuear':  the  reading  of  Folios  2,  3,  4;  Folio  i  reads, 
'zi'ce':  Anon.  conj..  '  oui.' 

I.  iii.  59.  'has  zvherezvithal' ;  Folios,  '  ha's'  probably  an  error 
for  "has'  i.e.  '(he)  has.' 

156 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII. 


Notes 


I.  iv.   '  York  Place.'     Cp.  the  annexed  illustration. 


From  Anthony  van  den  Wyngrerde's  j5/>(/'"j--ri'^  Fiew  of  London  in  1543,  now 
in  the  Sutherland  collection,  Bodleian  Library,  Uxtord. 

I.  iv.  6.  'As,  Hi'st,  good  company' ;  so  Folios  i,  2,  3;  Folio  4 
reads,  'As,  first  good  company';  Theobald,  'as,  first-good  com- 
pany ' ;  Halliwell,  '  as  far  as  good  company,'  etc. 

II.  i.  29.  '  was  either  pitied  in  him  or  forgotten ' ,  i.e.  "  either 
produced  no  effect,  or  only  ineffectual  pity"  (Malone). 

II.  i.  54.  'Sir  William  Sands';  Theobald's  emendation  (from 
Holinshed)  of  Folio  i,  '  Sir  Walter  Sands' ;  Folios  2,  3,  4,  '  Walter 
Sands.' 

II.  i.  86.  '  mark ' ;  Warburton's  emendation  of  Folios,  '  make.' 
II.  i.  105,  'I  now  seal  it,'  i.e.  my  truth, — with  blood. 
II.    ii.   85.  'one   have-at-him'  \    Folio    i,    'one;   haiie   at   him'; 
Folios  2,  3,  4,  '  one  heave  at  him ' ;  Knight,  '  one ; — have  at  him.' 

II.  ii.  94.  'Have  their  free  voices'  i.e.  'have  liberty  to  express 
their  opinions  freely'  (Grant  White,  'Gave'  for  'Have.') 

II.  iii.  14.  '  that  quarrel,  fortune,  do  ' ;  Folio  i  reads,  *  that  quar- 
rell.  Fortune,  do';  Collier  MS.,  'that  cruel  fortune  do';  Keight- 
Icy,  'that  quarrel,  by  fortune,  do';  Lettsom  conj.  'that  fortunes 
quarrel  do ' ;  Hanmer,  '  that  quarr'ler,  fortune  do,'  etc. 

II.  iii.  46.  '  little  England  ' ;  Steevens  pointed  out  that  Pembroke- 
shire was  known  as  '  little  England ' ;  and  as  Anne  Bullen  was 
about  to  be  made  Marchioness  of  Pembroke,  there  may  be  a 
special  point  in  the  phrase. 

II.  iii.  92.  'the    mud   in   Egypt,'   i.e.    'the    land 
fertilized  by  the  Nile's  overflow.' 

II.  iii.  97-8.  '  Honour's  train  is  longer  than  his 
oreskirt:'       Cp.     the     accompanying     illustration 


157^ 


Notes 


FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 


from  a  series  of  engravings  published  at  Nancy,  1608,  which 
depicts  Duke  Henry  II.  and  his  attendant  the  Duke  of  Mantua 
at  the  funeral  of  Charles  III.,  Duke  of  Lorraine. 

11.  iv.  62.  '  That  longer  you  desire  the  court,'  i.e.  desire  the  court 
to  delay  its  proceedings;  Folio  4,  'defer';  Keightley  conj.  'court, 
delay'd.' 

II.  iv.  172.  '  The  Bishop  of  Bayonne  ' ;  strictly  it  should  be  '  the 
Bishop  of  Tarbes,'  but  the  mistake  was  Holinshed's. 

II.  iv.  174.  '  The  Duke  of  Orleans  '  was  the  second  son  of  Fran- 
cis I.,  King  of  France. 

II.  iv.  182.  'the  bosom  of  v.iy  conscience  ' ;  Holinshed's  use  of 
'secret  bottom  of  my  conscience'  justified  Theobald's  emendation 
of  '  bosom '  to  '  bottom.' 

II.  iv.  199.  'throe';  Pope's  emendation  Folios,  '  fhrozv.' 

II.  iv.  204.  'yet  not,'  i.e.  not  3'et. 

II.  iv.  225.  '  drive ' ;  Pope's  emendation  of  Folios,  '  drives.' 

HI.  i.  38.  '  and  that  zvay  I  am  wife  in  ' ;  i.e.  concerning  my  con- 
duct as  a  wife.     (Rowe  proposed  '  -wise  '  for  '  wife.') 

HI.  i,  40.  '  Tanta  est  erga  te  mentis  integritas,  regina  serenis- 
sima';  'So  great  is  our  integrity  of  purpose  towards  thee,  most 
serene  princess.' 

HI.  ii.  64.  'He  is  returned  in  his  opinions,'  i.e.  having  sent  in 
advance  the  opinions  he  has  gathered. 

HI.  ii.  66.  'Together  with  all  famous  colleges';  Rowe  reads, 
'  Gafher'd  from  all  the  famous  colleges.' 

HI.  ii.  96.  '/  must  snuff  it.'  Cp.  the  accompanying  representa- 
tion of  a  pair  of  snuffers  dating  from  the  year  15.78. 


HI.  ii.  172.  '  been  mine  so' ;   so   Folio   i  ;   Folios  2,  3,  4  read, 
'  been  so.' 

HI.  ii.  192.  'that  am,  have,  and  will  be,'  etc.;  the  reading  of  the 

158 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Notes 

Folios  of  these  lines,  which  have  taxed  tl:c  ingenuity  of  scholars ; 
some  two  dozen  various  emendations  are  recorded  in  the  Cam- 
bridge Shakespeare,  but  probably  the  text  as  we  have  it  represents 
the  author's  v/ords ;  the  meaning  of  the  passage  is  clear,  and  the 
difficulty  is  due  to  the  change  in  construction.  Instead  of  ''  that 
am,  have,  and  zuill  be,'  it  has  been.proposed  to  read,  '  tha-t  am  your 
slave,  and  zvill  be';  this  would  get  rid  of  the  awkward  '  have':= 
'  have  been,'  but  probably  the  line  is  correct  as  it  stands. 

III.  ii.  2/2.  'that  .  .  .  dare  mate';  i.e.  I  that  .  .  .  dare 
mate. 

III.  ii.  282.  'And  dare  us  with  his  cap  like  larks';  "One  of  the 
methods  of  daring  larks  was  by  small  mirrors  fastened  on  scarlet 
cloth,  which  engaged  the  attention  of  these  birds  while  the  fowler 
drev/  his  net  over  them  "   (Steevens). 

III.  ii.  321.  'Cassado  ' ;  so  Folios,  following  Hall  and  Holinshed ; 
Roue  reads  the  correct  form,  '  Cassalis.' 

III.  ii.  325.  'your  holy  hat  to  be  stanip'd  on  the  king's  coin.     Cp. 
the  accompanying  facsimile  of  a 
groat   minted   at   Wolsey's   city 
of  York. 

III.  ii.  343.  '  Chattels' ;  Theo- 
bald's emendation  of  Folios, 
'  Castles.' 

IV.  ii.  58-59.  '  Those  tzvins  of 
learning     .     .     .     Ipsivich     and 

O.vford';  Wolsey's  College,  Ipswich,  of  which  the  gateway  still 
remains,  was  founded  by  Wolsey.  Christ  Church,  Oxford,  was 
founded  by  Wolsey :  it  was  first  called  Cardinal  College. 

IV.  ii.  60.  'the  good  tJiat  did  it';  Pope  reads,  'the  good  he  did 
it';  Collier  MS.,  'the  good  man  did  it';  Staunton,  'the  good  that 
rear'd  it'  etc.  The  words,  if  not  corrupt,  must  mean  the  '  good 
man  (or  the  goodness)  that  caused  it,  i.e  founded  it.' 

V.  i.  34.  '  is ' ;  Theobald,  '  he  's.' 

V.  i.  106,  'you  a  brother  of  us'  i.e.  being  a  Privy  Councillor. 

V.  iii.  11-12.  'frail  and  capable  of  our  flesh';  Keightley,  'cul- 
pable and  frail/  etc. ;  Pope,  '  and  capable  Of  frailty ' ;  Malone, 
'incapable;  Of  our  flesh';  Mason  conj.  'and  culpable:  Of  our 
flesh/  etc. 

V.  iii.  22.  'pace  'em  not  in  their  Jiands/ ;  i.e.  'leading  them  by 
the  bridle.' 

V.  iii.  30.  ■*  The  Upper  Germany ' ;  alluding  to  Thomas  Munzer's 
insurrection  in  Saxony  (1521-1522),  or  to  the  Anabaptist  rising  in 

159 


The  Palace  Yard. 
From  Anthony  van  den  Wyngrerde's 
Map  of  London  (1543),  in  the  Bod- 
leian Library. 


Notes  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

V  A. 

Minister    (1535)  ;    the   passage 
is  from  Foxe. 

V.  iii.  66.  '  Lay'  i.e.  '  though 
ye  lay.' 

V.  iii.  85.  '  This  is  too  much  ' ; 
the  FoHos  give  the  speech  to 
the  Chamberlain,  evidently  due 
to  confusion  of  '  Cham.'  and 
'  Chan.' 

V.  iii,  125.  '  bare ' ;  Malone's 
emendation  of  Folios,  '  hase.' 

V.  iii.  165.  '  You  'Id    spare    your    spoons/    i.e.    you    wish    to 
save  your  spoons !  alluding  to  the  old  custom  of  giving  spoons  as 
christening  presents. 
V.  iv.  '  The  Palace  Yard.'     Cp.  illustration. 
V.  iv.  27.  'And  that  I  would  not  for  a  cow,  God  save  her!'  a 
proverbial  expression  still  used  in  the  South  of  England. 

V.  iv.  34.  'some  strange  Indian.'  Exhibitions  of  Indians,  alive 
or  embalmed,  were  by  no  means  in- 
frequent in  the  London  of  Shake- 
speare's day.  Cp.  Tempest,  II.  ii.  34. 
The  annexed  illustration  represents 
one  of  these  '  strange  kind  of  people  ' 
(with  whose  transportation  Sir  Martin 
Frobisher  was  specially  concerned), 
and  is  copied  from  a  pen-and-ink  draw- 
ing of  about  1590,  the  original  of  which 
is  preserved  in  a  MS.  in  the  Library  of 
Canterbury  Cathedral. 

V.  iv.  65,  66.  'the  tribulation  of 
Tozuerhill,  or  the  limbs  of  Limehouse.' 
There  is  no  evidence  for  finding  in 
these  words  the  names  of  Puritan  con- 
gregations, as  commentators  have  sup- 
posed ;  the  alternative  phrases  are  suffi- 
ciently expressive  without  any  such 
supposition,  and  were  perhaps  coined 
for  the  occasion ;  they  are  not  found 
elsewhere. 

good    brethren';    Thirlby's    conjecture. 
Folios  read,  '  and  you  good  brethren.' 
he  has  ;  Folios,  '  'Has.' 

160 


'  Sotne  Strange  Indian? 

V.    V,    71.  'And   your 
adopted  by  Theobald ; 
V.  V.  y6.  '  has' ;  i.e. 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIIL 


Notes 


FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 


Explanatory  Notes. 

The  Explanatory  Notes  in  this  edition  have  been  specially  selected  and 
adapted,  with  emendations  after  the  latest  and  best  authorities,  from  the 
most  eminent  Shakespearian  scholars  and  commentators,  incldding  Johnson, 
Malone,  Steevens,  Singer,  Dyce,  Hudson,  \\'hite,  Furness,  Dowden,  and 
others.  This  method,  here  introduced  for  the  first  time,  provides  the  best 
annotation  of  Shakespeare  ever  embraced  in  a  single  edition. 


PROLOGUE. 

18-22.  To  rank  .  .  .  friend: — "This  is  not  the  only  pas- 
sage," saA^s  Johnson,  "  in  which  Shakespeare  has  discovered  his 
conviction  of  the  impropriety  of  battles  represented  on  the  stage. 
He  knew  that  five  or  six  men,  with  swords,  gave  a  very  unsatis- 
factory idea  of  an  army ;  and  therefore,  without  much  care  to  ex- 
cuse his  former  practice,  he  allows  that  a  theatrical  fight  would 
destroy  all  opinion  of  truth,  and  leave  him  never  an  understanding 
:friend."  The  Prologue,  partly  on  the  strength  of  this  passage,  has 
been  by  some  ascribed  to  Ben  Jonson,  It  certainly  accords  well 
with  what  he  says  in  the  prologue  to  Every  Man  in  his  Humour: — 

"  Though  need  make  many  poets,  and  some  such 
As  art  and  nature  have  not  better'd  much; 
Yet  ours  for  want  hath  not  so  lov'd  the  stage, 
As  he  dare  serve  the  ill  customs  of  the  age ; 
To  make  a  child,  now  swaddled,  to  proceed 
Man,  and  then  shoot  up,  in  one  beard  and  weed, 
Past  threescore  years;  or,  with  three  rusty  swords, 
And  help  of  some  few  foot  and  half-foot  words, 
Fight  over  York  and  Lancaster's  long  jars, 
And  in  the  tyring-house  bring  wounds  to  scars." 

ACT  FIRST. 
Scene  I. 

\Enter  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  etc.]  This  Thomas  Howard, 
Duke   of   Norfolk,    is   the    same   person   who  figures   as   Earl   of 

162 


LIFE  or  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Notes 

Surrey  in  Richard  III.  His  father's  rank  and  titles,  having 
been  lost  by  the  part  he  took  with  Richard,  were  restored  to 
him  by  Henry  VHI.  in  1514,  soon  after  his  great  victory  over 
ihe  Scots  at  Flodden.  His  wife  was  Anne,  third  daughter  of 
Edward  IV.,  and  so,  of  course,  aunt  to  the  King.  He  died  in 
1525,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Thomas,  Earl  of  Surrey. 
The  Poet,  however,  continues  them  as  duke  and  earl  to  the  end  of 
the  play;  at  least  he  does  not  distinguish  between  them  and  their 
successors.  Edward  Stafford,  the  Buckingham  of  this  play,  was 
son  to  Henry,  the  Buckingham  of  Richard  III.  The  father's  titles 
and  estates,  having  been  declared  forfeit  and  confiscate  by  Richard, 
were  restored  to  the  son  by  Henry  VH.  in  the  first  year  of  his 
reign,  1485.  In  descent,  in  wealth,  and  in  personal  gifts,  the  latter 
was  the  most  illustrious  nobleman  in  the  court  of  Henry  VIII. 
In  the  record  of  his  arraignment  and  trial  he  is  termed,  says 
Holinshed,  "  the  floure  and  mirror  of  all  courtesie."  His  oldest 
daughter,  Elizabeth,  was  married  to  the  Earl  of  Surrey ;  Alary, 
his  youngest,  to  George  Neville,  Lord  Abergavenny. 

48.  ''Element  here,"  says  Hudson,  "is  commonly  explained  to 
mean  the  Urst  principles  or  rudiments  of  knowledge.  Is  it  not 
rather  used  in  the  same  sense  as  when  we  say  of  any  one,  that 
he  is  out  of  h\?,  element^  From  Wolsey's  calling,  they  would  no 
more  think  he  could  be  at  home  in  such  matters,  than  a  fish  could 
swim  in  the  air,  or  a  bird  fly  in  the  water."  Schmidt's  explanation 
substantially  agrees  with  this. 

84.  85.  Have  broke  their  hacks,  etc. : — "  In  the  interview  at  An- 
dren,"  says  Lingard,  "  not  only  the  two  kings,  but  also  their  at- 
tendants, sought  to  surpass  each  other  in  the  magnificence  of  their 
dress,  and  the  display  of  theip  riches.  Of  the  French  nobility  it 
was  said  that  many  carried  their  whole  estates  on  their  hacks ; 
among  the  English  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  ventured  to  express 
his  marked  disapprobation  of  a  visit  which  had  led  to  so  much 
useless  expense."  The  passage  might  be  cited  as  going  to  show 
that  the  Poet's  reading  in  English  history  was  not  confined,  as 
some  would  have  us  believe,  to  Holinshed. 

85-87.  What  did  this  vanity  .  .  .  mia' :— That  is,  serve  for 
the  reporting  or  proclaiming  of  a  paltry,  worthless  result ;  some- 
what like  the  homely  phrase,  "  Great  cry,  and  little  wool." 

116.  Where's  his  examination f — Where  is  he  to  be  examined? 
The  cardinal,  says  Holinshed,  "  boiling  in  hatred  against  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham,  and  thirsting  for  his  blood,  devised  to  make 
Charles  Knevet,  that  had  beene  the  dukes  surveior,  an  instrument 

163 


Notes  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

to  bring  the  duke  to  destruction.  This  Knevet,  being  had  in  ex- 
amination before  the  cardinall,  disclosed  all  the  dukes  life.  And 
first  he  uttered,  that  the  duke  was  accustomed  by  waie  of  talke 
to  saie  how  he  meant  so  to  use  the  matter,  that  he  would  atteine 
to  the  crowne,  if  King  Henrie  chanced  to  die  without  issue.  The 
cardinall  procured  Knevet,  with  manie  great  promises,  that  he 
should  laie  these  things  to  the  dukes  charge  with  more,  if  he  knew 
it,  when  time  required." 

120.  There  was  a  tradition  that  Wolsey  was  the  son  of  a  butcher. 
But  his  father,  as  has  been  ascertained  from  his  will,  was  a  bur- 
gess of  considerable  wealth,  having  "  lands  and  tenements  in  Ips- 
wich, and  free  and  bond  lands  in  Stoke  "  ;  which,  at  that  time, 
would  hardly  consist  with  such  a  trade.  Holinshed,  however, 
says,  "  This  Thomas  Wolsie  was  a  poore  man's  sonne  of  Ipswich, 
and  there  born,  and,  being  but  a  child,  verie  apt  to  be  learned :  by 
his  parents  he  was  conveied  to  the  universitie  of  Oxenford,  where 
he  shortlie  prospered  so  in  learning,  as  he  was  made  bachellor  of 
art  when  he  passed  not  fifteen  years  of  age.  and  was  called  most 
commonlie  thorough  the  universitie  the  boie  bachellor." 

122,  123.  A  beggar's  hook,  etc. : — It  was  natural  at  that  time,  that 
Buckingham,  though  himself  a  man  of  large  and  liberal  attain- 
ments, should  speak  with  disdain  of  learned  poverty  in  comparison 
of  noble  blood.  Nor  was  his  pride  of  birth  so  bad  in  itself  as 
Wolsey's  pride  of  self-made  greatness. 

195.  Something  mistaken  : — Not  that  he  had  made  a  mistake,  but 
that  others  were  mistaken  regarding  him. 

207.  You  shall  to  the  Tower: — The  arrest  of  Buckingham  took 
place  April  16,  1521.  The  matter  is  thus  related  by  Holinshed: 
"  The  cardinall,  having  taken  the  examination  of  Knevet,  went 
unto  the  King,  and  declared  unto  him,  that  his  person  was  in 
danger  by  such  traitorous  purpose  as  the  Duke  of  Buckingham 
had  conceived  in  his  heart,  and  shewed  how  that  now  there  were 
manifest  tokens  of  his  wicked  pretense ;  wherefore  he  exhorted 
the  King  to  provide  for  his  owne  suertie  with  speed.  The  King 
hearing  the  accusation,  inforced  to  the  uttermost  by  the  cardinall, 
made  this  answer :  If  the  duke  have  deserved  to  be  punished,  let 
him  have  according  to  his  deserts.  The  duke  hereupon  was  sent 
for  up  to  London,  and  at  his  comming  thither  was  streightwaies 
attached,  and  brought  to  the  Tower." 

217.  Lord  Montacute : — This  was  Henry  Pole,  grandson  to 
George  Duke  of  Clarence,  and  eldest  brother  to  Cardinal  Pole. 
He  had  married  Lord  Abergavenny's  daughter.     Though  restored 

164 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Notes 

to  favour  at  this  juncture,  he  was  executed  for  another  alleged 
treason  in  this  reign. 

226.  this  instant  cloud  puts  on  : — This  instant  cloud  assumes ; 
"  whose  figure  "  referring  to  "  Buckingham,"  not  to  "  shadow." 
According  to  White,  "  the  speaker  says  that  his  life  is  cut  short 
already,  and  that  what  they  see  is  but  the  shadow  of  the  real 
Buckingham,  whose  figure  is  assumed  by  the  instant  [the  present, 
the  passing]  cloud  which  darkens  the  sun  of  his  prosperity.  John- 
son first  proposed  to  read,  '  this  instant  cloud  puts  out,'  and  in  so 
doing  diverted  the  minds  of  many  readers  (including  editors  and 
commentators)  from  the  real  meaning  of  the  passage,  and  created 
an  obscurity  for  them  which  otherwise  might  not  have  existed. 
Singer,  Verplanck.  and  Hudson  adopt  Johnson's  reading. 

Scene  II. 

151-171.  The  following  from  the  Chronicles  will  serve  as  an 
instance  how  minutely  the  Poet  adheres  to  truth  in  this  play: 
"  The  same  duke,  the  tenth  of  Maie,  in  the  twelfe  yeare  of  the 
kings  reigne,  at  London  in  a  place  called  the  Rose,  within  the 
parish  of  saint  Laurence  Poultnie,  in  Canwike  street  ward,  de- 
manded of  the  said  Charles  Knevet  esquier  what  was  the  talke 
amongest  the  Londoners  concerning  the  Kings  journie  beyond  the 
seas.  And  the  said  Charles  told  him  that  manie  stood  in  doubt  of 
that  journie,  least  the  Frenchmen  meant  some  deceit  towards  the 
King.  Whereto  the  duke  answered,  that  it  was  to  be  feared,  least 
it  would  come  to  passe  according  to  the  words  of  a  certeine  holie 
moonke.  For  there  is,  saith  he,  a  Chartreux  moonke,  that  diverse 
times  hath  sent  to  me  willing  me  to  send  unto  him  my  chancellor. 
And  I  did  send  unto  him  John  de  la  Court  my  chapleine,  unto 
whome  he  would  not  declare  anie  thing,  till  de  la  Court  had 
sworne  to  keep  all  things  secret,  and  to  tell  no  creature  living  what 
hee  should  heare  of  him,  except  it  were  to  me.  And  then  the  said 
moonke  told  de  la  Court  that  neither  the  King  nor  his  heires 
should  prosper,  and  that  I  should  indeavour  myselfe  to  purchase 
the  good  wils  of  the  communaltie ;  for  I  the  same  duke  and  my 
bloud  should  prosper,  and  save  the  rule  of  the  realme  of  England." 

171-176.  The  honourable  part  which  Katharine  is  made  to  act  in 
this  scene  is  unwarranted  by  history,  save  that,  such  was  the  rever- 
ence inspired  by  her  virtue  and  sagacity,  she  served  generally  as 
a  check  both  upon  the  despotic  temper  of  her  husband,  and  the  all- 
grasping  rapacity  of  his  minister ;  as  appears  by  the  King's  be- 

165 


Notes  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

coming  such  an  inexpressible  compound  of  cruelty,  meanness,  and 
lust,  when  her  influence  was  withdrawn. 

193-199-  If  ...  I  for  this,  etc. : — The  Chronicles  tell  us  that 
"  the  same  duke,  on  the  fourth  of  November,  in  the  eleventh  yere 
of  the  Kings  reigne,  at  east  Greenwich  in  the  countie  of  Kent,  said 
unto  one  Charles  Knevet,  esquier,  after  that  the  King  had  re- 
prooved  the  duke  for  reteining  William  Bulmer  knight  in  his  serv- 
ice, that  if  he  had  perceived  that  he  should  have  been  committed 
to  the  Tower,  hee  would  have  so  wrought,  that  the  principall 
dooers  therein  should  not  have  had  cause  of  great  rejoising.  For 
he  would  have  plaied  the  part  which  his  father  intended  to  have 
put  in  practise  against  King  Richard  the  Third  at  Salisburie,  who 
made  earnest,  sute  to  have  come  unto  the  presence  of  the  same 
King  Richard ;  which  sute  if  he  might  have  obteined,  he,  having  a 
knife  secretlie  about  him,  would  have  thrust  it  into  the  bodie  of 
King  Richard,  as  he  had  made  semblance  to  kneele  downe  before 
him." 

Scene  HI. 

[Enter  the  Lord  Chamberlain  and  Lord  Sands.]  The  dramatist 
has  placed  this  Scene  in  1521.  Charles  Somerset,  Earl  of 
Worcester,  was  then  lord  chamberlain,  and  continued  in  the 
office  until  his  death,  in  1526.  But  Cavendish,  from  whom  this 
was  originally  taken,  places  this  event  at  a  later  period,  when 
Lord  Sands  himself  was  chamberlain.  Sir  William  Sands,  of  the 
Vine,  near  Basingstoke,  Hants,  was  created  a  peer  in  1527.  He 
succeeded  the  Earl  of  Worcester  as  chamberlain. 

25.  fool  and  feather: — The  text  may  receive  illustration  from 
Nash's  Life  of  Jacke  Wilton,  1594:  "  At  that  time  I  was  no  com- 
mon squire,  no  undertrodden  torchbearer :  /  had  my  feafJier  in  my 
cap  as  big  as  a  Hag  in  the  foretop ;  my  French  doublet  gelte  in  the 
belly;  a  paire  of  side-paned  hose,  that  hung  down  like  two  scales 
filled  with  Holland  cheeses ;  my  long  stock  that  sate  close  to  my 
dock ;  my  rapier  pendant,  like  a  round  sticke,  my  blacke  cloake  of 
cloth,  overspreading  my  backe  lyke  a  thornbacke  or  an  elephant's 
eare ;  and,  in  consummation  of  my  curiositie,  my  handes  without 
gloves,  all  a  mode  French^  The  feathers  which  were  formerly 
worn  by  fools  in  their  caps  are  alluded  to  in  the  ballad  of  NeiK.'s 
and  no  News:  "And  feathers  wagging  in  a  fool's  cap." 

63.  My  barge  stays: — Is  waiting  to  take  us  to  York-place  (from 
the  King's  palace  at  Bridewell). 

\  166 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Notes 

Scene  IV. 

64.  [Enter  the  King  and  others,  as  jnasquers.]  This  visit  of  the 
King  in  disguise  is  historical,  and  was  quite  in  the  fashion  of  the 
time.  The  occurrences  at  the  real  masquing,  according  to 
Cavendish,  Wolsey's  biographer,  were  much  as  they  are  here 
represented.  But  it  was  not  on  this  occasion  that  Henry  first 
danced  with  Anne  Bullen,  as  will  appear  from  the  next  note. 

76,  [Dance.]  This  incident  of  the  King's  dancing  with  Anne 
Bullen  did  not  occur  durmg  this  banquet,  but  is  judiciously  intro- 
duced here  from  another  occasion,  which  was  a  grand  entertain- 
ment given  by  the  King  at  Greenwich,  May  5,  1527,  to  the  French 
ambassadors  who  had  come  to  negotiate  a  marriage  between  their 
king,  Francis  L,  or  his  son,  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  the  Princess 
Mary.  First  a  grand  tournament  was  held,  and  lances  broken; 
then  came  a  course  of  songs  and  dances.  About  midnight,  the 
King,  the  ambassadors,  and  six  others  withdrew,  disguised  them- 
selves as  Venetian  noblemen,  returned,  and  took  cut  ladies  to 
dance,  the  King  having  Anne  Bullen  for  his  partner.  As  Holin- 
shed  says  nothing  about  this  matter,  the  Poet  probably  derived  it 
from  Hall  or  Cavendish,  who  give  detailed  accounts  of  it. 

96.  And  not  to  kiss  you : — The  allusions  to  the  custom  here  put 
in  practice  are  countless  in  our  old  literature.  A  kiss  was  the 
established  reward  of  the  lady's  partner,  which  she  could  not  deny, 
or  he,  without  an  open  slight,  neglect  to  take. 

102.  In  the  next  chamber: — According  to  Cavendish,  the  King, 
on  discovering  himself,  being  desired  by  Wolsey  to  take  his  place 
under  the  state  or  seat  of  honour,  said  "  that  he  would  go  first 
and  shift  his  apparel,"  and  so  departed,  and  went  straight  into  my 
lord's.bedchamber. 

ACT  SECOND. 
Scene  I. 

40  et  seq.  "  There  was  great  enmitie,"  says  Holinshed,  "  be- 
twixt the  cardinall  and  the  earle,  for  that  on  a  time,  when  the  car- 
dinall  tooke  upon  him  to  checke  the  earle,  he  had  like  to  have 
thrust  his  dagger  into  the  cardinall.  At  length  there  was  occasion 
offered  him  to  compasse  his  purpose,  by  the  Earle  of  Kildare  his 
comming  out  of  Ireland.     The  earle,  being  unmarried,  was  desir- 

167 


Notes  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

ous  to  have  an  English  woman  to  wife ;  and  for  that  he  was  a  suter 
to  a  widow  contrairie  to  the  cardinals  mind,  he  accused  him  to 
the  King,  that  he  had  not  borne  himselfe  uprightlie  in  his  office 
in  Ireland.  Such  accusations  were  framed  against  him,  that  he 
was  committed  to  prison,  and  then  by  the  cardinals  good  prefer- 
ment the  Earle  of  Surrie  was  sent  into  Ireland  as  the  Kings  depu- 
tie,  there  to  remaine  rather  as  an  exile  than  as  lieutenant,  as  he 
himself  well  perceived." 

103.  poor  Edzi'ard  Bohun : — The  name  of  the  Duke  of  Bucking- 
ham most  generally  known  was  Stafford ;  it  is  said  that  he  affected 
the  surname  of  Bohun,  because  he  was  lord  high  constable  of 
England  by  inheritance  of  tenure  from  the  Bohuns. 


Scene  II. 

12.  [Etiter  .  .  .  Suffolk,]  This  Charles  Brandon,  Duke  of 
Suffolk,  was  son  of  Sir  William  Brandon,  slain  by  Richard  at 
the  battle  of  Bosworth.  He  was  created  Duke  of  Suffolk  in  Feb- 
ruary, 1514,  and  in  March,  1515,  was  married  to  ISIary,  youngest 
sister  of  the  King,  and  widow  of  Louis  XII.  of  France.  Suffolk 
was  one  of  the  leading  noblemen  of  his  time,  both  in  the  cabinet 
and  the  field. 

40-42.  It  was  the  main  end  or  object  of  Wolsey  to  bring  about 
a  marriage  between  Henry  and  the  French  king's  sister,  the 
Duchess  of  Alencjon. 

6^.  This  stage  direction  of  the  old  copy — Exit  Lord  Chamher- 
lain;  and  the  King  draws  the  curtain  and  sits  reading  pensively — 
is  singular.  It  was  calculated  for  the  state  of  the  theatre  in 
Shakespeare's  time.  When  a  person  was  to  be  discovered  in  a 
different  apartment  from  that  in  which  the  original  speakers  in  the 
scene  are  exhibited,  the  artless  mode  of  that  time  was,  to  place 
such  person  in  the  back  part  of  the  stage,  behind  the  curtains 
which  were  occasionally  suspended  across  it.  These  the  person 
v.'ho  was  to  be  discovered  drew  back  just  at  the  proper  time. 

130.  he  ran  mad  and  died : — "  Aboute  this  time,"  says  Holin- 
shed,  "  the  King  received  into  favour  Doctor  Stephen  Gardiner, 
whose  service  he  used  in  matters  of  great  secrecie  and  weight, 
admitting  him  in  the  room  of  Doctor  Pace,  the  which  being  con- 
tinually abrode  in  ambassades,  and  the  same  oftentymes  not  much 
necessarie.  by  the  Cardinalles  appointment,  at  length  he  tOKe  sucn 
greefe  therewith,  that  he  fell  out  of  his  right  wittes." 

168 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Notes 

Scene  III. 

78.  a  gem  : — Probably  the  carbancle,  which  was  supposed  by 
our  ancestors  to  have  intrinsic  light,  and  to  shine  in  the  dark. 
Any  other  gem  may  reflect  light,  but  cannot  give  it.  Thus  in  a 
palace  described  in  Ainadis  de  Gaulc,  1619:  "In  the  roofe  of  a 
chamber  hung  two  lampes  of  gold,  at  the  bottomes  whereof  were 
enchafed  two  carbuncles,  which  gave  so  bright  a  splendour  round 
about  the  roome,  that  there  was  no  neede  of  any  other  light." 

97,  98.  honour's  train,  etc. : — "  Meaning,  of  course,"  says  Hud- 
son, "  that  still  ampler  honours  are  forthcoming  to  her ;  or  that 
the  banquet  will  outsweeten  the  foretaste." 

103.  salute  my  blood : — Compare  with  Shakespeare's  similar 
phrase  in  Sonnets,  CXXI.,  5,  6: — 

"  For  why  should  others'  false  adulterate  eyes 
Give  salutation  to  my  sportive  blood?" 

Scene  IV. 

[Canferbtiry.]  At  this  time,  June  21,  1529,  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  was  William  Warham,  who  died  in  August,  1532, 
and  was  succeeded  by  Cranmer  the  following  March.  This  long 
stage  direction  from  the  Folio,  is  in  most  of  its  particulars  ac- 
cording to  the  actual  event.  The  "  two  priests,  bearing  each  a 
silver  cross,"  and  the  "  two  gentlemen  bearing  two  great  silver 
pillars,"  were  parts  of  Wolsey's  ofificial  pomp  and  circumstance ; 
the  one  being  symbolic  of  his  office  as  Archbishop  of  York,  the 
other  of  his  authority  as  Cardinal  Legate. 

12.  [The  Queen  .  .  .  goes  about  the  eourt,  etc.]  "  Because," 
says  Cavendish,  "  she  could  not  come  directly  to  the  King  for  the 
distance  which  severed  them,  she  took  pain  to  go  about  unto  the 
King,  kneeling  down  at  his  feet." 

69.  To  you  I  speak : — The  acting  of  j\Irs.  Siddons  has  been 
much  celebrated  as  yielding  an  apt  and  pregnant  commentary  on 
this  passage.  The  effect,  it  would  seem,  must  have  been  fine ;  but 
perhaps  the  thing*  savours  overmuch  of  forcing  the  Poet  to  ex- 
press another's  thoughts.  It  is  thus  described  by  Mr.  Terry : 
"  Vexed  to  the  uttermost  by  the  artifices  with  which  her  ruin  is 
prosecuted,  and  touched  with  indignation  at  the  meanness  and  in- 
justice of  the  proceeding,  she  interrupts  Campeius,  with  the  inten- 
tion of  accusing  Wolsey,   and   of   refusing  him   for  her  judge. 

169 


Notes  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Campeius,  who  had  been  urging  immediate  trial,  imagines  it  ad- 
dressed to  him,  and  comes  forward  as  if  to  answer.  Here  Mrs. 
vSiddons  exhibited  one  of  those  unequalled  pieces  of  acting,  by 
which  she  assists  the  barrenness  of  the  text,  and  fills  up  the  mean- 
ing of  the  scene.  Those  who  have  seen  it  will  never  forget  it ; 
but  to  those  who  have  not,  we  feel  it  impossible  to  describe  the 
majestic  self-correction  of  the  petulance  and  vexation  which,  in 
her  perturbed  state  of  mind,  she  feels  at  the  misapprehension  of 
Campeius,  and  the  intelligent  expression  of  countenance  and 
gracious  dignity  of  gesture,  with  which  she  intimates  to  him  his 
mistake.  And  no  language  can  convey  a  picture  of  her  immediate 
reassumption  of  the  fulness  of  majesty,  when  she  turns  round 
to  Wolsey,  and  exclaims,  'To  you  I  speak!'  Her  form  seemed 
to  expand,  and  her  eyes  to  burn  beyond  human." 

116,117.  Yon  tender  more,  etc.: — So  in  Holinshed:  "He  was 
the  hautiest  man  in  all  his  proceedings  alive,  having  more  respect 
to  the  honour  of  his  person,  than  he  had  to  his  spirituall  profes- 
sion, wherein  should  be  shewed  all  meeknes,  humilitie,  and 
charitie." 

166.  /  speak  my  good  lord  eardiual  to  tJiis  point: — The  King, 
having  first  addressed  Wolse3%  breaks  off;  and  declares  upon  his  • 
honour  to  the  whole  court,  that  he  speaks  the  cardinal's  senti- 
ments upon  the  point  in  question. 

239.  Prithee,  return  : — The  King,  be  it  observed,  is  here  merely 
thinking  aloud.  Cranmer  was  at  that  time  absent  on  a  foreign 
embassy. 

ACT  THIRD. 
Scene  I. 

22, 2T,.  Being  churchmen  they  should  be  virtuous,  and  every 
business  they  undertake  as  righteous  as  their  sacred  office :  but  all 
hoods  make  not  monks.  In  allusion  to  the  Latin  proverb,  Cucul- 
lus  non  facit  monachum,  to  which  Chaucer  also  alludes: — 

"  Habife  ne  maketh  mouke  ne  frere; 
But  a  clene  life  and  devotion, 
Maketh  gode  men  of  religion." 

51-53.  The  construction  is.  "  I  am  sorry  my  integrity,  and  ser- 
vice to  his  majesty  and  you,  should  breed  so  deep  suspicion."  Ed- 
wards made  a  transposition  of  the  lines,  thus : — 

170 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Notes 

"I  am.  sorry  my  integrity  should  breed 
So  deep  suspicion,  where  all  faith  was  meant, 
And  service  to  his  majesty  and  you." 

Hudson  (Harvard  ed.)  so  transposes  them.  White  leaves  them, 
in  the  original  order,  with  the  line.  And  service  to  his  majesty 
and  you  in  parenthesis, 

102.  The  more  shame  for  yc : — If  I  mistake  you,  it  is  by  your 
fault,  not  mine ;  for  I  thought  you  good. 

164.  grozu  as  terrible  as  storms : — It  was  one  of  the  charges 
brought  against  Lord  Essex,  that,  in  a  letter  written  during  his 
retirement  in  1598  to  the  lord  keeper,  he  had  said,  "  There  is  no 
tempest  to  the  passionate  indignation  of  a  prince." 

Scene  II. 

42.  married: — The  date  commonly  assigned  for  the  marriage  of 
Henry  and  Anne  is  November  14,  1532;  at  which  time  they  set 
sail  together  from  Calais,  the  King  having  been  on  a  visit  to  his 
royal  brother  of  France.  Lingard,  following  Godwin,  Stowe,  and 
Cranmer,  says  they  were  privately  married  the  25th  of  January, 
1533,  and  that  the  former  date  was  assigned  in  order  to  afford  the 
proper  space  between  their  marriage  and  the  birth  of  Eliza- 
beth, which  latter  event  took  place  the  7th  of  September  fol- 
lowing. The  marriage  was  to  have  been  kept  secret  till  May; 
but  the  circumstances  forced  a  public  acknowledgment  of  it  early 
in  April. 

120-128.  This  incident,  in  its  application  to  Wolsey,  is  a  fiction: 
he  made  no  such  mistake ;  but  another  person  having  once  done 
so,  he  took  occasion  thereby  to  ruin  him.  The  Poet  was  judicious 
in  making  Wolsey's  fall  turn  upon  a  mistake  which  in  his  hands 
had  proved  so  fatal  to  another.  The  story  is  told  by  Holinshed 
of  Thomas  Ruthall,  Bishop  of  Durham,  who  was  accounted  the 
richest  subject  in  the  realm  ;  and  who,  having  by  the  King's  order 
written  a  book  setting  forth  the  whole  estate  of  the  kingdom,  had 
it  bound  up  in  the  same  style  as  one  before  written,  setting  forth 
his  own  private  affairs.  At  the  proper  time  the  King  sent  Wolsey 
to  get  the  book,  and  the  bishop  gave  him  the  wrong  one.  "  The 
cardinall,  having  the  booke,  went  foorthwith  to  the  King,  deliv- 
ered it  into  his  hands,  and  breefelie  informed  him  of  the  contents 
thereof;  putting  further  into  his  head,  that  if  at  anie  time  he  were 
destitute  of  a  masse  of  monie,  he  should  not  need  to  seeke  further 

171 


Notes  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

than  to  the  cofers  of  the  bishop.  Of  all  which  when  the  bishop 
had  intelligence,  he  was  stricken  with  such  greefe,  that  he  shortlie 
ended  his  life  in  the  yeare  1523." 

140.  Spiritual  leisure  is  leisure  for  spiritual  exercises.  The 
King  seems  biting  him  with  irony;  as  if  his  leisure  were  so  filled 
up  Avith  spiritual  concerns  that  he  could  not  spare  any  of  it  for 
worldly  affairs. 

141.  Keep  your  earthly  audit  "  means,  apparently,"  says  Hud- 
son, "  look  after  your  temporal  interests,  or  audit,  that  is  verify, 
your  secular  accounts." 

184-190.  The  interpretation  seems  to  be:  "Besides  your  bond 
of  duty  as  a  loyal  and  obedient  servant,  you  owe  a  particular  de- 
votion to  me  as  your  special  benefactor." 

231.  my  Lord  of  Winchester's  : — Shakespeare  forgot  that  Wolsey 
was  himself  bishop  of  Winchester,  having  succeeded  Bishop  Fox 
in  1528,  holding  the  see  in  commendam.  Esher  was  one  of  the 
episcopal  palaces  belonging  to  that  see. 

256.  Buckingham,  my  father-in-law: — The  Poet  continues  the 
same  persons  Duke  of  Norfolk  and  Earl  of  Surrey  through  the 
play.  Here  the  earl  is  the  same  who  had  married  Buckingham's 
daughter,  and  had  been  shifted  off  out  of  the  way,  when  that 
great  nobleman  was  to  be  struck  at.  In  fact,  however,  he  who, 
at  the  beginning  of  the  play,  1521,  was  earl,  became  duke  in  1525. 
At  the  time  of  this  scene  the  Earl  of  Surrey  was  the  much-accom- 
plished Henry  Howard,  son  of  the  former,  born  in  1520;  a  man  of 
fine  genius  and  heroic  spirit,  afterwards  distinguished  alike  in 
poetry  and  in  arms,  and  who,  on  the  mere  strength  of  royal  sus- 
picion, was  sent  to  the  block  in  1547. 

314.  Ego  et  Rex  mens: — These  several  charges  are  taken  al- 
most literally  from  Holinshed,  where  the  second  item  reads  thus : 
"  In  all  writings  which  he  wrote  to  Rome,  or  anie  other  forren 
prince,  he  wrote  Ego  et  rex  meus,  I  and  my  king;  as  who  would 
sale  that  the  King  were  his  servant."  In  the  Latin  idiom,  how- 
ever, such  was  the  order  prescribed  by  modesty  itself.  And,  in 
fact,  the  charge  against  Wolsey,  as  given  from  the  records  by 
Lord  Herbert,  was  not  that  he  set  himself  above  or  before  the 
King,  but  that  he  spoke  of  himself  along  with  him. 

325.  Your  holy  hat,  etc.: — This  was  one  of  the  articles  exhibited 
against  Wolsey,  but  rather  with  a  view  to  swell  the  catalogue  than 
from  any  serious  cause  of  accusation ;  inasmuch  as  the  Arch- 
bishops Cranmer.  Bainbridge,  and  Warham  were  indulged  with 
the  same  privilege. 

172 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Notes 

350  et  seq.  "  In  Henry  VIII. ,"  says  Emerson,  "  I  think  I  see 
plainly  the  cropping  out  of  the  original  work  on  which  his 
[Shakespeare's]  own  finer  stratum  was  laid.  The  first  play  was 
written  by  a  superior,  thoughtful  man,  with  a  vicious  ear.  I  can 
mark  his  lines,  and  know  well  their  cadence.  See  Wolsey's  solilo- 
quy, and  the  following  scene  with  Cromwell,  where,  instead  of  the 
metre  of  Shakespeare,  whose  secret  is  that  the  thought  constructs 
the  tune,  so  that  reading  for  the  sense  will  bring  out  the  rhythm — 
here  the  lines  are  constructed  on  a  given  tune,  and  the  verse  has 
even  a  trace  of  pulpit  eloquence." 

411,412.  the  noble  troops  .  .  .  smiles: — The  number  of  per- 
sons who  composed  Cardinal  Wolsey's  household,  according  to 
the  authentic  copy  of  Cavendish,  was  five  hundred.  Cavendish's 
work,  though  written  soon  after  the  death  of  Wolsey,  was  not 
printed  till  1641,  and  then  in  a  most  unfaithful  and  garbled  man- 
ner, the  object  of  the  publication  having  been  to  render  Laud 
odious,  by  showing  how  far  Church  power  had  been  extended  by 
Wolsey,  and  how  dangerous  that  prelate  was,  who,  in  the  opinion 
of  many,  followed  his  example.  In  that  spurious  copy  we  read 
that  the  number  of  his  household  was  eight  hundred  persons.  In 
other  MSS.  and  in  Dr.  Wordsworth's  edition,  we  find  it  stated  at 
one  hundred  and  eighty  persons. 


ACT  FOURTH. 
Scene  I. 

16.  coronation  : — "  The  play,"  in  the  opinion  of  Emerson,  "  con- 
tains through  all  its  length  unmistakable  traits  of  Shakespeare's 
hand,  and  some  passages,  as  the  account  of  the  coronation,  are 
like  autographs." 

49.  The  Cinque-ports  (i.e.,  the  five  ports)  were  Hastings,  Sand- 
wich, Dover,  Romney,  and  Hythe.  Rye  and  Winchelsea  were 
subsequently  added.  For  furnishing  many  warships  the  original 
five  received  important  privileges.  According  to  Hall,  "  the 
Cinque-ports  claimed  to  bear  the  canopy  over  the  Queen's  head, 
the  day  of  the  coronation." 

88.  crozvn: — The  coronation  of  Anne  took  place  June  i,  1533; 
the  divorcement  of  Katharine  having  been  formally  pronounced 
the  17th  of  May. 

173 


Notes  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Scene  II. 

i6.  his  mule. — Cardinals  generally  rode  on  mules,  as  a  mark 
perhaps  of  humility.  Cavendish  says  that  Wolsey  "  rode  like  a 
cardinal  sumptuously  upon  his  mule,  trapped  altogether  in  crim- 
son velvet  and  gilt  stirrups." 

34.  Of  an  unbounded  stomach  : — The  Chronicles  have  many  pas- 
sages showing  up  this  trait  of  pride  or  arrogance  in  Wolsey's 
character.  Thus:  "It  fortuned  that  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury wrote  to  the  cardinall  anon  after  that  he  had  received  his 
power  legantine,  the  which  letter  after  his  old  familiar  maner  he 
subscribed.  Your  brother  William  of  Canterburie.  With  which 
subscription  he  was  so  much  offended,  that  he  could  not  temper 
his  mood,  but  in  high  displeasure  said  that  he  would  so  worke 
within  a  while,  that  he  should  well  understand  how  he  was  his 
superiour,  and  not  his  brother."  This  whole  speech  was  evidently 
founded  upon  the  following,  copied  by  Holinshed  from  Hall : 
"  This  cardinall  was  of  a  great  stomach  for  he  compted  himselfe 
equall  with  princes,  and  by  craftie  suggestion  got  into  his  hands 
innumerable  treasure :  he  forced  little  on  simonie,  and  was  not 
pitifull,  and  stood  affectionate  in  his  own  opinion :  in  open  pres- 
ence he  would  lie  and  seie  untruth,  and  was  double  both  in  speech 
and  meaning :  he  would  promise  much  and  perform  little :  he  was 
vicious  of  his  bodie,  and  gave  the  clergie  evill  example." 

48-68.  This  cardinal,  etc. : — This  speech  is  formed  on  the  fol- 
lowing passage  in  Holinshed :  "  This  cardinall  was  a  man  un- 
doubtedly born  to  honour;  exceeding  wise,  faire-spoken,  high- 
minded,  full  of  revenge,  vitious  of  his  bodie;  loftie  to  his  enemies, 
were  they  never  so  big,  to  those  that  accepted  and  sought  his 
friendship  wonderful  courteous;  a  ripe  schooleman ;  thrall  to 
affections,  brought  a-bed  with  flatterie ;  insatiable  to  get,  and  more 
princelie  in  bestowing ;  as  appeareth  by  his  two  colleges  at  Ips- 
wich and  Oxenford,  the  one  overthrown  with  his  fall,  the  other 
unfinished,  and  yet  as  it  lyeth,  for  an  house  of  studentes  incom- 
parable throughout  Christendome.  ...  A  great  preferrer  of 
his  servants,  an  advauncer  of  learning,  stoute  in  every  quarrel, 
never  happy  till  this  his  overthrow ;  wherein  he  shewed  such 
moderation,  and  ended  so  perfectlie,  that  the  houre  of  his  death 
did  him  more  honour  than  all  the  pomp  of  his  life  passed." 

103.  rude  behaviour: — Queen  Katharine's  servants,  after  the 
divorce  at  Dunstable,  were  directed  to  be  sworn  to  serve  her  not 
as  queen  but  as  princess  dowager.     Some  refused  to  take  the  bath, 

174 


I 
I 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Notes 

and  so  were  forced  to  leave  her  service ;  and  as  for  those  who  took 
it  and  stayed,  she  would  not  be  served  by  them,  by  which  means 
she  was  almost  destitute  of  attendants. 

169.  maiden  Uowcrs: — To  scatter  flowers  in  the  grave  at  the 
burial  of  maidens  was  customary.  See  Hamlet,  V.  i.  244,  245 : 
"  She  is  allow'd  her  virgin  crants,  her  maiden  strewments  "  ;  and, 
a  few  lines  further  on,  the  Queen's  words  when  she  strews  flowers 
in  the  grave  of  Ophelia. 


ACT  FIFTH.  r  f ^^ 

Scene  I. 

113-121.  We  here  trace  the  Poet's  reading  into  a  new  path,  and 
one  that  entirely  refutes  the  old  notion  that  his  knowledge  of 
English  history  was  confined  to  the  pages  of  Holinshed.  The 
matter  of  the  vScene,  and  in  many  cases  the  precise  language,  are 
taken  from  the  book  commonly  known  as  Foxc's  Book  of  Mar- 
tyrs, which  was  first  printed  in  1563. 

142-157.  Be  of  good  cheer,  etc.: — This  is  taken  almost  literally 
from  Foxe,  who  makes  the  King  speak  to  the  archbishop  as  fol- 
lows :  "  '  Doe  not  you  know  what  state  you  be  in  with  the  whole 
world,  and  how  manie  great  enemies  you  have?  Do  you  not  con- 
^  sider  what  an  easie  thing  it  is  to  procure  three  or  foure  false 
knaves  to  witnesse  against  you?  Think  you  to  have  better  lucke 
that  wai  than  your  master  Christ  had?  I  see  by  it  you  will  run 
headlong  to  your  undoing,  if  I  would  suffer  you.  Your  enemies 
shall  not  so  prevaile  against  you ;  for  I  have  otherwise  devised 
with  myselfe  to  keepe  you  out  of  their  hands.  Yet  notwithstand- 
ing, to  morrow,  when  the  councell  shall  sit  and  send  for  you,  re- 
sort unto  them,  and  if  in  charging  you  with  this  matter  they  do 
commit  you  to  the  Tower,  require  of  them,  because  you  are  one  of 
them,  a  councellor,,that  you  may  have  your  accusers  brought  be- 
fore them  without  any  further  indurance,  and  use  for  yourselfe 
as  good  perswasions  that  way  as  you  may  devise;  and  if  no  in- 
treatie  will  serve,  then  deliver  unto  them  this  my  ring,  and  say 
unto  them,  if  there  he  no  remedie,  my  lords,  hut  that  I  must  needs 
go  to  the  Tower,  then  I  revoke  my  cause  from  you  and  appeale  to 
the  Kings  owne  person,  hy  this  his  token  unto  you  all;  for,  so  soon 
as  they  shall  see  this  my  ring,  they  shall  understand  that  I  have 

175 


Notes  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

resumed  the  whole  cause  into  mine  owne  hands.'  The  archbishop, 
perceiving  the  Kings  benignitie  so  much  to  himwards,  had  much 
ado  to  forbeare  teares.  '  Well,*  said  the  King,  '  go  your  waies,  my 
lord,  and  do  as  I  have  bidden  you.'  " 

Scene  IL 

20.  {Enter  the  King  and  Butts  at  a  zvindow  above.']  In  America 
we  are  not  without  some  examples  of  old  houses  in  which  large 
rooms  are  commanded  by  windows  opening  into  them  from 
passageways  or  small  adjacent  apartments.  But  of  old  it  was 
quite  common  in  England  to  have  such  windows  in  the  large 
rooms  of  manor  halls,  castles,  and  palaces,  especially  in  the 
kitchen  and  the  dining-room,  or  banqueting-hall.  From  these 
npertures  the  mistress  of  the  mansion  could  overlook  the  move- 
ments of  her  servants,  either  with  or  without  their  knowledge, 
and  direct  them  without  the  trouble  and  unpleasantness  of  min- 
gling with  them.  Instead  of  a  window  there  was  very  often  a  door 
opening  upon  a  small  gallery  or  platform,  not  unlike  those  in 
which  the  musicians  are  placed  in  some  assembly  rooms.  Such  a 
gallery,  too,  was  part  of  the  stage  arrangement  of  Shakespeare's 
day. 

34.  draw  the  curtain  close: — That  is,  the  curtain  of  the  balcony 
or'  upper  stage,  where  the  King  now  is. 

Scene  III. 

[The  council-chamber.]  The  old  stage  direction  at  the  com- 
mencement of  this  Scene  is :  "A  councell  table  brought  in  with 
chayres  and  stooles  and  placed  under  the  state."  Our  ancestors 
were  contented  to  be  told  that  the  same  spot,  perhaps  without  any 
change  of  its  appearance  except  the  drawing  back  of  a  curtain,  was 
at  once  the  outside  and  the  inside  of  the  council-chamber. 

9Q-113.  By  virtue  of  that  ring,  etc.: — So  in  Foxe :  "Anone  the 
archbishop  was  called  into  the  counsaille  chamber,  to  whome  was 
alledged  as  before  is  rehearsed.  The  archbishop  answered  in  like 
sort  as  the  King  had  advised  him ;  and  in  the  end,  when  he  per- 
ceived that  no  maner  of  perswasion  or  intreatie  could  serve,  he  de- 
livered them  the  Kings  ring,  revoking  his  cause  into  the  Kings 
hands.     The  whole  councell  being  thereat  somewhat  amazed,  the 

176 


MFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Notes 

Earle  of  Bedford  with  a  loud  voice,  confirming  his  wordes  with  a 
solemn  othe,  said,  'When  you  first  began  the  matter,  my  lords, 
I  tolde  you  what  would  come  of  it.  Do  you  thinke  that  the  King 
will  suffer  this  mans  finger  to  ake?  Much  more,  I  warrant  you, 
will  hee  defend  his  life  against  brabling  varlets.  You  doe  but 
cumber  yourselves  to  heare  tales  and  fables  against  him.'  And  so, 
incontinently  upon  the  receipt  of  the  Kings  token,  they  all  rose, 
and  caryed  the  King  his  ring,  surrendering  that  matter,  as  the 
order  and  use  was,  into  his  own  hands." 

102.  This  is  the  king's  ring : — It  seems  to  have  been  a  custom, 
begun  probably  before  the  regal  power  experienced  the  restraints 
of  law,  for  every  monarch  to  have  a  ring,  the  temporary  posses- 
sion of  which  invested  the  holder  with  the  same  authority  as  the 
owner  himself  could  exercise.  The  production  of  it  was  sufficient 
to  suspend  the  execution  of  the  law ;  it  procured  indemnity  for  of- 
fences committed,  and  imposed  acquiescence  and  submission  to 
whatever  was  done  under  its  authority.  The  traditional  story  of 
the  Earl  of  Essex,  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  the  Countess  of  Notting- 
ham, long  considered  as  an  incident  of  a  romance,  is  generally 
known,  and  now  as  generally  credited. 

167.  you  'Id  spare  your  spoons : — The  ancient  offerings  upon  oc- 
casions of  christening  when  spoons  were  given  as  presents  were 
called  apostle-spoons,  because  the  extremity  of  the  handle  was 
formed  into  the  figure  of  one  or  other  of  the  apostles.  Such  as 
were  opulent  and  generous  gave  the  whole  twelve ;  those  who 
were  more  moderately  rich  or  liberal,  escaped  at  the  expense  of 
the  four  evangelists ;  or  even  sometimes  contented  themselves 
with  presenting  one  spoon  only,  which  exhibited  the  figure  of  any 
saint,  in  honour  of  whom  the  child  received  its  name. 


Scene  IV. 

15.  On  May-day  morning'. — Anciently  the  first  of  May  was  ob- 
served by  all  classes  of  Englishmen  as  a  holiday.  The  old  custom 
is  finely  touched  by  Wordsworth  in  his  two  Odes  to  May : — 

"  Time  was,  blest  Power !  when  youths  and  maids 
At  peep  of  dawn  would  rise 
And  wander  forth,  in  forest  glades 
Thy  birth  to  solemnize. 

177 


Notes  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

Though  mute  the  song — to  grace  the  rite 

Untouch'd  the  hawthorn  bough, 
Thy  Spirit  triumphs  o'er  the  shght; 

Man  changes,  but  not  Thou !  " 

Scene  V. 

50  et  seq.  On  a  picture  of  King  James,  which  formerly  belonged 
to  Bacon,  the  King  is  styled  Imperii  Atlantici  Conditor.  In  1612 
there  was  a  lottery  for  the  plantation  of  Virginia.  The  lines  prob- 
ably allude  to  the  settlement  of  that  colony. 

'/6.  The  last  Act  is  the  indispensable  sequel  and  completion  to 
those  that  precede,  and  clinches  the  vast  political  determination 
that  was  gathering  and  moving  onward,  in  the  intrigues  and  re- 
actions of  the  earlier  scenes.  The  business  of  the  divorce  opened 
the  question  of  independence  of  Rome — or  reopened  it,  and  it  is 
furthered  by  the  dispositions  of  Anne  Bullen  and  her  feud  with 
the  cardinal.  In  the  last  Act  we  find  the  King  in  personal  exercise 
of  absolute  power,  and  giving  sign  of  casting  it  decisively  into  the 
scale  of  the  party  of  the  new  opinions,  by  crushing  the  intrigue 
of  Gardiner.  Cranmer  and  Cromwell  are  indicated  in  the  play 
as  the  ecclesiastical  and  lay  leaders  of  the  impending  innovation, 
and  if  with  brevity,  we  must  remember  that  the  ears  of  Shake- 
speare's generation  were  still  tingling  with  their  doings,  and 
parties  took  sides  at  once  at  the  very  mention  of  their  names. 
Hence  the  significance  to  the  course  of  the  play,  of  the  support 
they  receive  from  the  King,  and  the  seal  of  the  alliance  is  the  se- 
lection of  the  new  man  Cranmer  to  be  godfather  to  the  infant 
princess — of  Elizabeth,  who  was  destined  to  carry  forward  not 
only  the  better  public  tendencies  peace  and  power — of  honours 
open  to  all,  and  as  nobly  gained  as  bestowed,  but  also  to  secure 
the  strongest  establishment  for  the  church  of  liberty  and  liberali- 
zing enlightenment,  that  the  marriage  of  her  mother  was  the  occa- 
sion of  first  effectually  promoting. 


178 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII. 


Questions  on  King  Henry  VIII. 


1.  Who  is  the  dramatist  to  whom  joint  authorship  of  this  play 
is  ascribed? 

2.  Mention  the  parts  assigned  to  Shakespeare. 

3.  What  is  the  temper  of  the  play  as  evidenced  by  the  Prologue? 
How  many  instances  does  the  play  present  where  mightiness 
meets  misery?     Do  you  think  Shakespeare  wrote  the  Prologue? 

ACT  FIRST. 

4.  What  event  is  discussed  by  Norfolk  and  Buckingham  at  the 
beginning  of  the  play  ? 

5.  Whom  does  Norfolk's  glowing  description  serve  to  introduce, 
and  what  impression  of  him  is  gained  thereby? 

6.  What  bits  of  personal  biography  of  Wolsey  does  the  scene 
furnish? 

7.  What  is  the  dramatic  purpose  of  the  scene  between  Wolsey 
and  Buckingham  ? 

8.  Of  what  treasons  does  Buckingham  accuse  Wolsey?  How  is 
the  former  prevented  from  carrying  out  his  threat?  How  is  the 
promise  of  the  Prologue  fulfilled  in  the  arrest  of  Buckingham? 

9.  Comment  on  the  power  of  Wolsey  at  the  court  as  indicated 
by  his  position  in  the  procession  at  the  opening  of  Sc.  ii. 

10.  Has  the  subject  of  the  Queen's  petition  been  introduced  in 
the  preceding  Scene?  Does  the  interruption  by  the  Queen  make 
an  effective  dramatic  moment  ? 

11.  Explain  the  social  conditions  resulting  from  the  taxations. 
Who  was  responsible  for  the  taxations?  On  what  pretext  were 
they  levied? 

12.  What  is  Wolsey's  defense  of  himself?  Do  the  facts  or  does 
the  King  accuse  him  and  ask  for  explanation? 

13.  Indicate  Henry's  conservative  policy.  How  does  Wolsey 
turn  the  King's  pardon  to  his  own  advantage? 

14.  What  are  the  accusations  against  Buckingham  made  by  the 
Surveyor? 

179 


Questions  KAMOUb  Hlb'l  OKY  Ob   THE 

15.  How  does  the  Queen  bear  herself  during  this  entire  Scene? 
What  is  the  dramatic  purpose  of  presenting  her  at  the  height  of 
her  official  dignity  and  influence  at  the  outset  of  the  play? 

16.  For  whom  was  the  Cardinal's  party  given  as  presented  in 
Sc.  iv.  ? 

17.  What  impression  do  you  get  of  Anne  Bullen  in  this  Scene? 
What  side  of  Henry's  nature  is  here  presented  ?  What  of  the 
Cardinal  ? 

18.  Is  the  incident  of  the  masquers  historical? 

ACT  SECOND. 

19.  How  did  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  conduct  himself  at  his 
trial?     Why  is  the  trial  not  given  before  the  spectators? 

20.  In  his  speech,  Sc.  i.,  beginning  line  55.  what  distinction  does 
Buckingham  make  between  the  justice  of  his  sentence  and  the  fact 
of  his  own  guilt  or  innocence? 

21.  W^hat  was  the  fate  of  his  father?  Is  there  any  anticipation 
of  the  thought  of  Wolsey's  farewell  address  (III.  ii.  350)  in  the 
speech  of  Buckingham  beginning  line  100? 

22.  How  is  Wolsey  accused  of  implication  in  the  rumoured 
divorce  of  Henry  and  Katharine?  Why  did  he  desire  the  arch- 
bishopric of  Toledo? 

23.  What  element  of  the  exposition  does  the  letter  (Sc.  iL)  sup- 
ply?    What  relation  does  Suffolk  bear  to  the  King? 

24.  What  does  Norfolk  say  (Sc.  ii.)  about  Wolsey's  influence 
over  the  King?  How  is  he  shown,  by  dramatic  means,  to  be  the 
privileged  subject? 

25.  On  what  mission  did  Campeius  come  to  the  court?  Give 
the  Dr.  Pace  incident  and  its  effect  upon  Wolsey.  How  did  the 
Cardinal  use  all  inferiors? 

26.  Interpret  the  King's  allusions  to  Katharine  at  the  end  of 
Sc.  ii. 

27.  Is  Anne's  pity  for  the  Queen  genuine?  Does  she  apprehend 
the  real  grounds  of  the  Queen's  misery?  Is  Anne  sincere  in  her 
protestations  about  pomps? 

28.  Estimate  the  character  of  the  Old  Lady.  What  is  her  sta- 
tion?    Compare  her  with  the  Nurse  in  Romeo  and  Juliet. 

29.  What  honours  does  the  King  bestow  upon  Anne?  What 
is  the  dramatic  effect  of  this  advancement  of  her? 

30.  How  does  Katharine  begin  her  appeal  (Sc.  iv.)  to  the  King 

180 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Questions 

at  the  opening  of  her  trial  ?     What  allusion  does  she  make  to  the 
legality  of  the  marriage  ? 

31.  What  is  the  dramatic  action  accompanying  the  speech,  Lord 
cardinal,  to  you  I  speak  ? 

32.  What  point  in  Wolsey's  career  is  marked  by  the  Queen's 
denunciation  of  him? 

S3.  How  does  Katharine  characterize  his  reply  to  her?  To 
what  pitch  does  it  stir  her  ? 

34.  How  does  she  leave  the  court? 

35.  What  does  the  King  say  in  exoneration  of  Wolsey?  How 
was  Henry  led  to  question  the  validity  of  his  marriage  with 
Katharine?  Interpret  the  King's  speech  with  which  the  Scene 
closes. 

ACT  THIRD. 

36.  Comment  on  the  fitness  of  the  opening  song  to  the  spirit  ot 
the  first  Scene.  What  presage  is  there  of  the  conclusion  of  the 
Scene  ? 

37.  In  what  frame  of  mind  does  Katharine  receive  Wolsey  and 
Campeius?     What  does  Wolsey  say  is  the  purpose  of  their  visit? 

38.  In  the  scene  with  Wolsey  and  Campeius  what  new  things 
does  Katharine  advance  in  her  own  defence?  What  part  does 
her  sense  of  queenly  dignities  as  her  right  bear  to  her  other 
claims?  Compare  her  with  Hermione.  Which  case  more  moves 
to  pity? 

39.  In  Wolsey's  words,  The  hearts  of  princes  kiss  obedience,  so 
much  they  love  it,  what  far-reaching  principle  does  he  suggest  of 
a  polity  that  he  helped  to  establish  in  England  and  which  held 
sway  until  the  fall  of  the  Stuarts? 

40.  Does  the  Scene  close  with  a  feeling  of  Katharine's  defeat? 

41.  With  what  motive  does  the  open  opposition  (Sc.  ii.)  against 
Wolsey  begin?     How  is  it  said  that  he  swayed  the  King? 

42.  What  are  the  two  counts  that  the  King  has  against  Wolsey 
which  end  in  his  downfall?  How  are  they  dramatically  pre- 
sented? 

43.  Why  was  Wolsey  opposed  to  Anne  Bullen? 

44.  Was  the  incident  of  Wolsey's  mistake  in  sending  to  the 
King  the  inventory  of  his  personal  possessions  historically  true? 
Characterize  the   scene  in  which  the  King  breaks  with  Wolsey. 

45.  To  what  uses  did  Wolsey  intend  to  put  the  wealth  that  he 
had  accumulated? 

181 


Questions  FAMOUS  HISTORY  OF  THE 

46.  Is  there  a  failure  to  sustain  the  level  of  the  scene  between 
the  points  marked  by  the  exit  of  the  King  and  the  farewell  ad- 
dress by  Wolse}'-?  What  is  Wolsey's  bearing  during  the  scoldings 
of  the  lords? 

47.  It  is  judged  that  this  Scene,  from  the  exit  of  the  King  on  to 
the  end,  is  the  work  of  Fletcher.  Mention  some  aspects  of  the 
longer  speeches  that  seem  un-Shakespearian. 

48.  Is  there  a  progressive  rise  in  dramatic  effect  in  the  three 
instances  that  illustrate  the  promise  of  the  Prologue  that  the  play 
shall  exhibit  how  mightiness  meets  misery} 


ACT  FOURTH. 

49.  How  are  we  informed  of  the  divorce  of  Katharine?  What 
attitude  did  she  persist  in  maintaining  towards  the  court  set  to 
judge  the  case? 

50.  How  is  Anne  Bullen's  coronation  procession  described? 

51.  What  is  the  dramatic  purpose  of  Sc.  ii.  in  following  the 
events  of  the  preceding  Scene  ? 

52.  How  did  Wolsey  end  his  life? 

53.  How  does  Katharine  describe  his  life?  Was  Griffith's  ac- 
count as  true  as  the  Queen's? 

54.  What  is  symbolized  by  the  masque? 

55.  What  trait  in  Katharine  does  the  conduct  of  the  messenger 
call  out? 

56  Is  the  last  scene  in  which  Katharine  appears  convincing  in 
Its  truth  to  nature? 


ACT  FIFTH. 

57.  How  does  Sc.  i.  show  Anne  Bullen  to  be  regarded  by  the 
courtiers? 

58.  Who  are  associated  with  her  in  the  disfavour  of  the  court? 

59.  What  incident  precedes  the  interview  of  the  King  and  Cran- 
mer,  and  what  is  suggested  by  the  juxtaposition? 

60.  How  does  Henry  arrange  with  Cranmer  to  meet  the  charges 
of  the  council  ?  On  what  grounds  was  Cranmer  summoned  before 
them? 

61.  What  is  the  chief  trait  of  the  Old  Lady  as  exhibited  in  Sc.  i. 
and  in  the  earlier  Scene? 

182 


LIFE  OF  KING  HENRY  VIII.  Questions 

62.  What  indignity  is  put  upon  Cranrrter,  and  how  is  the  King 
informed  of  it?     Describe  Cranmer's  trial. 

63.  Indicate  the  purpose  of  Sc.  iii.  Granting  that  it  was  written 
by  Fletcher,  or  by  some  unknown  hand,  how  does  it  compare  with 
similar  scenes  of  undoubted  Shakespearian  authorship? 

64.  Comment  upon  the  lack  of  unity  of  the  play  in  considering 
the  last  Act  in  relation  to  the  others. 


65.  Viewing  the  play  as  a  whole,  what  is  its  great  artistic 
defect?     Is  there  a  lack  of  any  informing  purpose? 

Is  there  a  lack  of  any  informing  purpose  ? 

66.  Show  how  Wolsey's  fall  caused  a  change  in  his  ideas  of  life 
and  duty.  Do  you  regard  his  repentance  and  purification  as 
natural  and  logical  ? 

67.  How  is  contrast  effected  by  the  portrayal  of  Cranmer  in  the 
last  Act? 

68.  How  does  the  end  of  the  play  exhibit  the  transference  of  ab- 
solute power  once  wielded  by  Wolsey?  In  this  respect  does  the 
play  exhibit  the  true  course  of  history? 

69.  What  made  it  impossible  for  this  play  to  present  a  life-like 
portrait  of  Anne  BuUen?  Does  this  portrait  contain  anything 
false? 


183 


UNIVERSITY  OF   CALIFORNIA-LOS   ANGELES 


L  009  978  342  5 


